



















Lorna Carswell 

A STORY OF THE SOUTH 


COMER L. PEEK 

ii 


Second Edition 


NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON 

THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1906 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Coole? Received 


JUL 2 1906 



Copyright, 1903, by 
COMER L. PEEK 

Copyright, 1906, by 
COMER L. PEEK 





DEDICATED 


TO THE MEMORY OF AN IDOLIZED SISTER 

AND OTHER BELOVED AND LOST OF MY CHILDHOOD DAYS; 

THE BRAVE 

WHO SACRIFICED LIFE FOR A PRINCIPLE; 

THE FAITHFUL, AFFECTIONATE, ANTE-BELLUM SLAVE*, 

AND TO 

ALL LOVERS OF TRUTH. 


By the Author, 




PREFACE. 


The design of this work is to add to the litera- 
ture of the period a serio-comic description, true 
to nature, of life and character — both white and 
black — on the Southern plantation before and dur- 
ing the war between the States ; also after emanci- 
pation of the slave and throughout the reconstruc- 
tion period. The author was born in 1851 on a 
Southern plantation. State of Georgia, and has 
lived South ever since. Every feature of the story 
is drawn from the actual life and character of the 
time embraced. The phraseology gives the true 
slave idiom or vernacular. With malice toward 
none and good will to all, the work is placed before 
a truth-loving public by 


THE AUTHOR. 



FOREWORD. 


What a fascination the words “before the war” 
have for ns. Northern-born and of a later day ! 

They were halcyon days apparently, when pros- 
perity was everywhere ; the noted Southern chivalry 
and hospitality were at their height, and old-time 
breeding and courtesy were esteemed before all 
things. The negroes, well-cared for by the “marsa” 
and “missus,” had never a thought for the morrow, 
and lived their lives with that happy, inconsequent 
childishness characteristic of the race. It is im- 
possible for any one but a Southerner, and a war- 
time Southerner at that, to appreciate the abso- 
lute devotion which existed, among the negroes for 
their “white folks.” They were not only slaves 
in law but in sentiment too. Of course, there 
were Simon Legrees, but are there not despots in 
every state of society? 

The glamour of romance is over the South. 
The very sun shone brighter “before the war.” 

Then came the war, and “after the sword the 
canker-worm” when the South saw her very foun- 
dations cut away. Every tie was wrested from 


Foreword. 


her, and she was subjected to the bitterest humilia- 
tion of modern times. 

Many writers since then — principally in the 
North — have given to the world much that is of 
incalculable value, be the reader for or against the 
issue; but few or perhaps no one until the present 
author, has given a political and sentimental study 
combined, and given it so forcefully, but withal 
so delicately, that the most susceptibly sensitive 
disciple of abolition can find nothing but food for 
earnest thought. 

At the moment the “color question” is again 
agitating the nation, and to the post-bellum 
thinker whose knowledge of “war times” is neces- 
sarily gleaned from the time-dimmed recollections 
of its contemporaries, a work of this kind will do 
much to help in gaining for the South a fair 
weighing of the conditions extant there before, 
during, and after the war. 

May S. Gtilpatric. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. Pi5E 

Rural Shades 1 

CHAPTER II. 

The Hookey Runaways II 

CHAPTER III. 

A Southern Household 14 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Slave’s Wedding 16 

CHAPTER V. 

The Sabbath on the Plantation 23 

CHAPTER VI. 

Master and Slave and the Church 27 

CHAPTER VII. 

Willis and Cupid 37 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Our Abolitionist Appears on the Scene 44 

CHAPTER IX. 

Then and Now — Yankee Abolitionist South After 
the War 51 


Contents, 


CHAPTER x. p AG K 

Slave State Laws — Protection of Negroes, Bond 
and Free — A Plantation Dinner 60 

CHAPTER XI. 

Music of the Dough Block .69 

CHAPTER XII. 

Hard Trials — Tribulations 75 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Youth and Hope, Life and Love 81 

CHAPTER XIY. 

The Old Slave’s Soliloquy 84 

CHAPTER XV. 

A Plantation Corn-Shucking 89 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Bogy-Punkin-Debble-Hant 102 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Ambition and Politics 110 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Love and Dust 125 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Retrospection 136 

CHAPTER XX. 

Was Secession the South’s Only or Best Remedy, 
or a Mistake? 141 


Contents, 


CHAPTER XXI. page 

Southern Views in 1860 148 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Southern Views in 1860 — Continued 164 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Morals of Politics 181 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Nature, Love’s Silent Interpreter 199 

CHAPTER XXV. 

The First Gun 210 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Mars and Cupid 225 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

How a Carolinian Surrendered 245 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The Beginning of the End 257 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

1863—1865 268 

CHAPTER XXX. 

“Seeking the bubble reputation, even in the cannon’s 
mouth” 273 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Man Proposes, but God Disposes , 279 


Contents, 


CHAPTER XXXII. page 

The Carpet-bagger and His Brother in Black 286 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

The Negro in the House of His Friends (?) 302 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

The Scalawag 309 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

Florida, 1876 314 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Carswell and Selkirk Meet Again 322 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Rural Shades 331 


LORN A CARSWELL 


CHAPTER I. 

RURAL SHADES. 

Our story opens on a big Southern plantation in 
the State of Georgia, on a mellow, sunlit day in 
July, 1859. When the new mansion, massive and 
stately, was built on a prominent elevation, sur- 
rounded by a grove of oak, hickory and chestnut, 
it was the fancy of the owner’s wife and daughters 
to christen the place “Rural Shades.” 

Down on one of the low-ground branches a com- 
ical little one-gallused, locust-thom-buttoned dar- 
key, Ben — no simame — was intently fishing along- 
side his young master, Julian Carswell. The 
young slave was eleven, the young master was 
eight. The two boys had fished on this branch 
many a summer day with weed poles, cotton string 
lines, pin hooks and cornstalk corks and eel worm 
bait. Every bend and crook was dear and familiar. 
There was the minnow hole, the homey-head hole, 
the perch hole, the cat hole, the crawfish rocks, the 
tadpole stretch, the pollywog run, the bull frog 


2 


Lorna Carswell. 


kerchoog, and the big ber-doom. The last was the 
wash hole or swimming pool, where they invariably 
threw in some rocks or valley clods to hear them go 
“ber-doom” as they hit the water. Just now Ben 
got a bite, gave a mighty jerk straight upward, 
then scrambling up and throwing down his pole 
and line he hurriedly ran back from the stream 
gazing excitedly skyward. 

“Mars Julus, hain’t yer seed ’im drap yit? I 
knows I kotch ’em, kase I seed ’im gwup an’ ’e 
wuz er wopper ! Gorrimity ! Wonder whar dat 
feesh ? He look like er whalin’ cat or perch, or er 
mighty big horner.” J ust then the bewildered lit- 
tle minnow, about two inches long, flirted in the 
dry leaves some thirty feet back, and Ben bounced 
on it like a hawk, brought it back in triumph and 
strung it on a forked willow switch with other 
trophies. 

Meantime Julian went through a similar per- 
formance and strung a little perch on his willow. 
Pin hooks have no barbs. 

“Ben ! Ben ! Look yonder ! Gee whiz ! A great 
big old green bull frog squatted under the bank ! 
Give me a rock quick!” 

“Ho, sar. Mars Julus. For gorrimity sakes 
doan kill ? um. Kaze why? Ef yer duz yer gwi’ 
stump er toe nail plum off, jes’ sho’ ez snaix.” 

Julian fully believed in Ben and religiously let 
that bull frog alone. He was suffering now with 
a stone bruise on his heel for killing a toad frog a 
few days before. Ben solemnly told him “bull 
frogs wuz toe nails an’ toad frogs wuz sho’ stun 
brooze.” 

The two chums were tired of fishing and wan- 


o 


A Story of the South. 

dered up on a pine sapling red hill slope by a gully 
and made mud marbles. A melon patch was in 
sight down in the valley. The flavor of a ripe 
muskmelon and the large gray and striped water- 
melons, visible among the luxurious vines, made 
their thirsty mouths water. Both boys became 
very quiet and reflective. 

Away up in the blue, God’s great electric light 
ceaselessly fed by mighty currents, caused by the 
attrition of worlds and limitless space and all of 
His marvelous works, rolled evenly, smoothly, ma- 
jestically toward the zenith. Sleepy grasshoppers 
lazily kiz-zipped from place to place. Birds twit- 
tered in half-forgotten notes. The drowsy zoon- 
ze-zoon of locust answered each other’s long drawn 
melody in monotonous regularity. In valleys and 
slopes and upon distant hills the tremulous shim- 
mer of summer sunlight warmly and lovingly hov- 
ered over broad acres of cotton, com and grain and 
zone of forest. Faint waves of sound — songs, hal- 
los and roundelays, from gangs of negro plowmen 
and hoe hands in distant fields, occasionally echoed 
like dreamy voices of an almost forgotten past. 
Butterflies giddily flitted from leaf and bloom and 
blossom. The gentle somnolent breeze soughed 
contentedly in the wavy pine needles and rustled 
the growing blades of corn and wheat. Tip, up, 
away yonder in the azure a buzzard floated and 
sailed in the sea of air without flap of wing. Had 
it not been for that melon patch the two hoys 
would have gone to sleep. Both were thinking of 
the same thing. Ben was afraid to make any first 
direct proposition, so he meditatively hut tenta- 
tively said: 


4 


Lorna Carswell. 


“Er say, Mars Julus, yer reckin karyn crows eats 
milyuns? Dat un way up dere keep er hankerin’ 
roun’ en roun’ dat patch. En kase why? Ef dey 
duz, I woosh I wuz er karyn crow.” 

Julian did not answer, but his longing look at 
the nearest gray melon encouraged the diplomatic 
Ben. “Dat ar wattermilyun is sho’ ripe, en er 
knows dat mushmilyun is, kase her smell so loud 
en meller. Yer spose yer paw’d keer ef you tuck 
one?” 

“You know he would, Ben ; cause he told us to 
keep out and not touch ’em, or he’d have to switch 
us good.” 

“Dat’s berry well, Mars Julus — berry well to be 
sho’. But den dey wuz leetle witsy tinies, en yer 
paw skeered we pint finger at ’em en mek ’em drap 
off. Dat un ain’t cross mark, en one milyun 
outen dat full patch ull neber miss. Sides, how 
airy one gwine ebber know us bin dar ? Oo-oomph ! 
Swar-ter-gawd, doan her smell ! En dat gray mil- 
yun sottin’ long sides er smilin’ iz red meat en 
sweetern sorghum lasses! Now, you en me en 
my daddy en yer paw, all on us hep wuk dat patch. 
You en yer paw er bossin en me en daddy er wuk- 
kin. Ef you wuz growed en all de hosses en mules 
en feels en craps en tousen aker en cows en hogs en 
biggus, en string en hundred niggers en milyun 
patch en ebery sing ’longed ter yer, yer wooden 
bergredge yer po nigger Ben en yer pooty little 
Julus one loan, measly milyun, would you, Mars 
Julus ? Ef yer say go fotch dat milyun I’ll gin yer 
dat yaller aggy marble en mek, a whissal fer yer en 
tote yer all de way back ter de biggus.” 

Ever since Eve, surrounded in paradise by all 


5 


A Story of the South. 

the bloom and beauty of nature, was tempted and 
did eat, has the spirit of evil tempted man by ap- 
pealing to his weaker frailties, appetite, greed, 
self ease. The serpent business was allegorical. 
Eve could not have been a woman and not be 
scared of snakes, even before the fall. She would 
simply have screamed and skedaddled. 

Julian had a sore stone bruise on his heel, the 
way home was rocky, he dearly loved to have a 
whistle, and he particularly wanted that beautiful 
yellow aggy taw of Ben’s. He had before this 
offered ten biscuits and a chunk of cake for it, but 
Ben was not hungry at the time and would not 
trade. More than all he wanted melon to eat. 
He knew it was wrong to disobey his father, and 
the little fellow had quite a battle with his con- 
science. He hesitated almost a full minute, and 
then weakly said: 

“Ben, are you sure you can get it and nobody 
never, never know it ?” 

“Yasser, yasser! Mars Julus, yer clum up dat 
saplin en watch; see ’fennybody come twil I git 
dat milyun. I fotch er quickern turkel snap !” 

The fear of being found out keeps many a mortal 
apparently honest. How, all of you who love God 
more than you fear a court of justice, disapproba- 
tion of man and open shame of discovery, just 
hold up your right hand until you are counted. 

The young master climbed to the top of the pine 
sapling and watched. Meantime the cunning lit- 
tle darkey hastily secured some pieces of hark, 
tied them to the bottoms of his flat feet with the 
string a hoy always carries if he has pockets, looked 
all around hurriedly, then boldly went for the 


6 Lorna Carswell. 

melon and landed it safely under the young senti- 
nel. 

“Say, doan clam down yit. Cause en kaze, yer 
hatter roos up dar en watch twill I eats a full bate, 
en den I clum up fer ter look out en den yer clam 
down en git yourn full.” 

With some misgiving and resentful uncertainty, 
Julian remained up and watched Ben more than 
for possible enemies. He hotly felt there was 
something wrong in the order of precedence be- 
tween master and slave, but his accusing conscience 
told him that just then the master’s aristocratic 
white face, particeps criminis, was on the dead 
level with the slave’s ebony hue. 

They had no knife, so Ben grabbed a rock and 
broke a hole in one end of the long, big melon, then 
chooged his dirty, grimy red-clay-cased hands down 
into the very bowels of that watermelon. In rapid 
motion the chunks and flakes of the luscious, juicy 
red meat, gouged out by Ben’s long, dirt-filled fin- 
ger nails, disappeared down his thirsty throat. 
His eyes rolled heavenward in unspeakable ecstacy 
as his ivory teeth crunched, his lips smacked, and 
his goozle swallowed. He had to eat half if he 
busted, was his idea. 

After what seemed to J ulian a mighty long time, 
Ben called him down. The white boy made no 
bones of the sloppy, muddy condition of things, 
but dived his own soiled hands up to his elbow in 
the remains and enjoyed the feast as only a thirsty 
boy can. 

Meantime Ben tried to climb the sapling, hut his 
stomach was so drum tight that he slid back to the 
ground and rolled about. When Julian became 


1 


A Story of the South. 

about as tight as Ben, they both managed to roll 
into the gully to hide and slacken up before the 
dinner horn should blow. 

Ah there, Ben! Forty years have passed since 
then. Have you survived abolitionism, war, eman- 
cipation, civil rights, elective franchise, politics, 
carpetbaggism, mititarism, reconstruction and edu- 
cation? Has freedom only made you idle? Has 
citizenship only rendered you impolite? Has the 
power to vote only found in you a cat’s paw ? Has 
politics taught you only hate and prejudice ? Did 
the days of reconstruction find in you the only loyal 
citizen, or an ignorant, inexperienced child, made 
to play with fire in a powder house? Has educa- 
tion landed you in a convict camp, or has it made 
of you a law-abiding, patriotic citizen? How has 
the theory that "color is the only difference between 
white and black” been developed in your case ? 

These many years have placed you, at times, in 
many very ludicrous, as well as very serious situa- 
tions. In this true story, filled with actual inci- 
dents and characters, we shall see how developed 
facts compare with former theories. 

“Bural Shades” plantation spread over one 
thousand acres of rolling, hardwood soil. The 
forest was principally oak, hickory, sweetgum, dog- 
wood, holly, maple and chestnut. Three branches 
made winding threads of green between the hilly 
slopes, watering the fertile bottoms or low 
grounds. 

The white residence, or “biggus,” in darkey 
phrase, was built to suit the Southern climate — 
large, two-story, massive, plain, colonial style, 
painted solid white and green blinds, big rooms, 


8 


Lorna Carswell. 


big piazzas, big halls, big fire places, plenty of big 
windows. The costly, stylish, bewinged, befud- 
dled, becornered, irregular, twistified, gingerbread 
trimmings, haphazard, candy-box, “modem” dwell- 
ing may suit some people’s taste, and the architect 
and contractor’s purse, but give me the plain, old 
square, massive, colonial for solid comfort in 
Southern climes. The very appearance indicates 
big-hearted welcome and prodigal hospitality. 

Down to the left front, across an open space 
some three hundred yards was the “string” or long 
row of negro cabins for the field hands. Each had 
plenty of yard room in front and garden plat be- 
hind, fenced in to itself. South and nearer was 
another string of half-dozen cabins for the house 
and kitchen servants. To the right front, between 
the two strings and down a steep hill, was the 
spring of cool water gushing from rocky caverns. 
This spring supplied white and black with water. 
There was not a well on the place. Each cabin 
had a spinning wheel and a pair of batting cards. 
In a few of the larger cabins a ponderous home- 
made loom was part of the furniture. Each negro 
woman, while not working as a field hand, was re- 
quired to card and spin so many broaches of cotton 
thread per day. These broaches in turn made the 
warp and filling for the loom, whereon was manu- 
factured by hand the homespun for clothing. Shall 
I ever forget the drony zoon of those wheels and 
the quick swish of shuttle and turn turn of beam of 
those looms, nearly always accompanied by some 
negro melody ! Down a woodland slope back of 
the mansion was located the big lot with bams, 
stables, com cribs, shuck pens, carriage and tool 


A Story of the South. • 9 

house. There was also a blacksmith shop and 
tannery. The big kitchen was about sixty feet 
back of the dwelling, and the smokehouse was near 
the kitchen. There was a big ash hopper where 
hardwood ashes were leached into lye, which in 
turn was with the grease of all kinds, made into 
bar and soft soap. 

Twice during the war a large squad of Wheeler’s 
cavalry camped in the grove near the barns, and 
were freely given possession of any and all supplies 
on the place they needed or desired for man and 
horse. The negroes, as well as the whites, wel- 
comed the soldiers in gray and looked upon them 
as defenders and protectors. During the war there 
were many pickaninnies named by their negro par- 
ents in honor of Beauregard, Johnston, Lee and 
Stonewall Jackson. Some gloried in the name of 
Stonewall alone. The darkies would gather 
around to hear mistress read the last letter from 
the young or older master in the army with as 
much sympathy and solicitude as the white sister 
or younger brother. When a battle occurred — but 
this is anticipating the current of events. 

Col. Edward Carswell, the owner of the planta- 
tion, was a prominent lawyer and influential citi- 
zen. His law office was in the neighboring town. 
A servant drove him in and out daily between the 
town office and country home. A white overseer 
had charge of managing the plantation and 
making his crops. 

Mrs. Carswell was still a handsome woman in 
the prime of life ; a refined, intelligent, loving wife 
and mother. The “Missus,” as all the darkies 
called her, was in their eyes the personification of 


JO 


Lorna Carswell. 


goodness and aristocratic respectability. The old- 
est daughter, Lorna, was now fifteen. The young- 
est daughter, Ellen, or “Teln,” was only six. Shel- 
ton, the eldest son, was seventeen, and the younger 
son, Julian, was our acquaintance, Ben’s “Mars 
Julus ” 

Lorna and Shelton were pupils of the famous 
Northern and Beeman School in a neighboring 
village, and were now at home for the summer va- 
cation. And this same Prof. Northern was, after 
the war, elected Governor of the State of Georgia. 


A Story of the South. 


1 3 


CHAPTER II. 

THE HOOKEY RUNAWAYS. 

Shelton was tall and slim, and, among other 
qualifications, enjoyed the reputation, like George 
Washington, of being swiftest in races, and the 
longest and highest jumper in the country side. 
Even when a little fellow his wonderful agility 
as a high jumper on one occasion saved him and 
Julian, too, from a good peacn tree switch whip- 
ping. It happened thus: 

As Ben would say, “hit wuz de fuss school 
whut Mars J ulus- gwine to erlong wid Mars Shel- 
ton, an’ I members de casion berry well, bekaze 
right den an* dar Mars Shelton’s jumpin’ kep’ 
my hide fum gittin’ er tannin’ well as dere hides ; 
shore’s yer born hit did. I’se allers spected jump- 
in’ squalities ebber sence.” 

The two boys had played hookey one warm 
spring afternoon by slipping off to the big ber- 
doom instead of going back to school. After 
swimming and playing in the water until usual 
time of returning from school, they carefully 
dried their wet heads, dusted their hands and 
feet, and faces, too, slipped round to the school 
road and came home as usual. They tried it 
another afternoon and took Ben along. 


12 


Lorna Carswell. 


Mrs. Carswell in some way learned of the hook- 
ey business, and believing firmly in peach-tree 
switch suasion, she met the three runaways as 
they were slipping up the lane from the big ber- 
doom. It was there and then that Shelton’s fame 
as a jumper, as Ben afterward said, “wuz spread- 
erer en broaderer plum froo der kentry.” 

After a very proper talk to her boys on the 
moral suasion line of ideas, Mrs. Carswell then 
proceeded to sharply administer the peach switch 
suasion on Shelton first. 

Julian and Ben disconsolately sat down in the 
fence comer and tearfully watched with anxious 
anatomies the physical administration, knowing 
their turn would soon come. 

The first swing of the switch was aimed at Shel- 
ton’s calves, but 'watching it intently, he quickly 
jumped, and the peach sprout cut through empty 
space. It rapidly came again, aimed higher, but 
the athlete jumped still higher just in the nick of 
time. The peach then came like a hurricane waist 
high, so as to sorter, as it were, catch him in the 
air at the proper angle, but an admirable regular 
bull frog leap left it cutting space below. Then, 
as the peach became kinder frantic and hap-hazard 
like, Shelton became, as it were, a lightning 
calculator, jumping- jack — between ducking down 
and jumping up. 

By this time Julian and Ben had become so in- 
terested in admiring that they forgot the woes 
of the near future and could hardly keep from 
cries of warning and exultation, as with a kind of 
comic awe they watched the hair-breadth escapes 
of the renowned jumper. 


i3 


A Story of the South. 

Suddenly the ludicrous situation overcame Mrs. 
Carswell and she threw the switch away and sat 
down in the fence corner by Julian and Ben and 
laughed until happy tears filled her beautiful eyes. 
Julian put his head in her lap and laughed and 
cried at the same time. Ben grinned aloud and 
cut the pigeon-wing-chicken-in-the-bread-tray 
dance ; while Shelton after blowing awhile, 
helped his mother up and they all went lovingly 
to the house together. 

They never played hookey any more. 


H 


Lorna Carswell. 


CHAPTER III. 

A SOUTHERN HOUSEHOLD. 

To wait upon every want and comfort, wish, and 
call of this happy family of six there were many 
house servants. America or “Merrie,” the cook, 
a middle-aged negress, industrious and intelligent 
and content with her lot, reigned supreme in the 
big kitchen. Her husband was long since dead, 
and her two boys, Andrew and Dennis, were de- 
tailed to wait upon her. Hansom, a stalwart 
negro man, and the only dude, was carriage 
driver and possessed great pride and good hu- 
mored conceit in performing his duties in accord- 
ance with his ideas of what was due an aristo- 
cratic owner of one hundred negroes, a big plan- 
tation and all things to match. 

Marma, the oldest negress on the place, tended 
the dairy, always keeping pure milk and cream 
butter in spic and span condition. 

Five negro girls, Amy, Lila and Jane, Anna 
and Emma, were lively, cheerful house servants. 
Nellie, who was now a grown woman, was nurse- 
maid. Sukey, Hansom’s wife, had charge of keep- 
ing the bedrooms in order. 

Our acquaintance, Ben, was a general ubiqui- 
tous roustabout and Julian’s special body servant. 


A Story of the South. i§ 

Shelton’s special slave was Raymond, a hoy 
about his own age. 

These fourteen servants enjoyed a good, easy 
time of it the year round, and were devotedly at- 
tached to Master and Missus and to their young 
masters and misses. 

The entire (plantation labor resulted in very 
little net money profits to the owner, after de- 
ducting the waste and extravagance, unlimited 
hospitality, and easy, luxurious manner of living 
of the owner and his family. 

The field hands had their regular daily labor 
to perform, cultivating the soil and harvesting 
the crops, and no one ever suffered the overseer’s 
lash except in rare cases of wilful neglect of easy 
duties or criminal wrong doing. 

There were exceptional cases among owners of 
slaves, where the cruel master considered nothing 
except the number of bales of cotton and other 
staples the utmost endurance of the slaves could 
produce. And the most hardened, inhumane 
wretches of all were the dealers and speculators 
in slave traffic, who in most cases were non-resi- 
dents. 

As a rule master and slave throughout the South 
were sincerely and touchingly devoted to each 
other as the superior race could be to the inferior 
dependent, and vice versa. Witness the thousand 
pathetic acts of love and protection and mutual 
sympathy and sacrifice exhibited between the two 
races during the war in Southern homes. 


i6 


Lorna Carswell. 


CHAPTEE IV. 

THE SLAVE’S WEDDING. 

The evening of this first summer’s day of onr 
story had been selected to celebrate the marriage 
of the nursemaid, Nellie, to Jim, one of the field 
hands. 

Colonel Carswell made it a point to have the 
marriage ceremony duly and legally performed 
between his slaves, so that every family on the 
place preserved distinct relations of husband and 
wife, parent and child. 

Good-hearted ; simple, patient Nellie! Do you 
remember the incident of the tub ? By some over- 
sight you had left it out in the sun until the hoops 
were loosened and it fell to pieces. The overseer, 
Mr. Waller, had scolded you roundly for the 
neglect and then carefully built the tub together 
and tightened and fastened the hoops. He then 
gave it back to you saying ironically: “Now, go 
and break it all to pieces again !” 

What did you know of satire, sarcasm or irony ? 
You had not studied the inimitable Thackeray, nor 
the stinging mockery of Elijah toward the 
prophets of Baal. Your beloved Miss Lorna had 
read to you the teachings of Paul, saying, “Ser- 
vants, be obedient to them that are your masters 


1 7 


A Story of the South. 

according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, 
in singleness of your heart, as unto Christ.” 

So as a conscientious duty you took that tub 
out to the wood pile where an ax was very handy, 
obediently and patiently worked on it with the 
ax until you broke it all to pieces again, then 
gathering an armful of tub fragments, hoops and 
all, you returned to the ironical Waller and peace- 
fully said: “Missur Waller, here dat tub yer done 
saunt me en tole me for ter break all ter pieces 
ergin.” Then you wondered why he stared 
speechless and dumfounded at you and the frag- 
ments as though he couldn’t do the subject justice. 
And when Mars Shelton and Missus merrily 
laughed and Missur Waller kinder sheepish like 
walked away and never even told you it was all 
right, or what to do with the tub remains, and 
left you standing there like a whole pack of fools. 
Then when the Missus got so she could talk she 
kindly got you to understand. You, too, were 
tickled nigh unto death and smiled all the bal- 
ance of the day, politely avoiding Missur Waller 
out of respect to his lacerated feelings ! 

Now, Mose and Mary, his wife, were the pappy 
and mammy of Nellie and our wily Ben. Old 
Marma was the mother of Mose. This negro 
Mose was chief boss and manager of all the hogs 
on the plantation, and driver of an educated span 
of eight great strong oxen, used nearly all the 
time in heavy hauling about the place. 

When Nellie consented to marry Jim, as in 
duty bound to do most everything she was asked 
to do, and the dusky lovers obtained Mose and 
Mary’s consent, and then all in turn received the 


1 8 Lorna Carswell. 

master’s consent, the day of the marriage was 
fixed, and another cabin built on the string. 

Great preparations were made for the wedding. 
Mose was ordered to barbecne a beef and roast a 
pig. Merric and her satellites baked bread and 
cakes in abundance, while plenty of raw material 
was given Mary to cook special dishes for the oc- 
casion. 

The Missus with Lorna and Teln helped adorn 
the bride with gifts of clothing and finery. 
Jim came into a full share from the mas- 
ter to meet the grand occasion. The white 
minister of the town was brought in style 
by Hansom to perform the ceremony. Colonel 
Carswell and all the white family had re- 
served seats of special honor at the house 
of Mose and Mary to witness the marriage. Jim 
was simply stunnin’ and out o’ sight in his make 
up, and Nellie, with bridal veil and all, was glori- 
ous to behold. 

The darkies were tickled to death at having the 
white folks as guests at their cabin, and it was 
amusing and delightful to see with what marked 
honor and humble respect the white guests were 
treated. 

Every negro on the place was then in and about 
the cabin. Such a display of ivory and shining 
eyes was never seen before or since. 

As soon as the whites retired after the cere- 
mony the hilarity was unbounded. Feasting, 
dancing, singing, play and frolic ruled the hours. 

Then a torchlight procession, with bride and 
groom in the center, marched up to and around 
the ‘Tiggus” in honor of the Master and Missus. 


l 9 


A Story of the South. 

Boys and girls, men and women, pickaninnies — all 
dancing in circles about the torch-bearers, creat- 
ing pandemonium unlimited. Then back to Jim’s 
new cabin they all swung and danced, to the mu- 
sic of fiddle and banjo and bones and clapping 
hands and feet and yoices in unison, singing — 

Mister Mario, sugar and cane. 

Mister Mario, candy! 

Mister Mario, sugar and cane. 

Wheel and kiss so handy! 

The merry breakdown, double-shuffle, lickety 
click dance was kept up until exactly midnight, 
as the morrow was the Sabbath day. 

As Ben at a late hour that night was, as usual, 
washing Mars Julusses foots in a biggin of water, 
and purposely tickling his toes to make him laugh 
and squinge, he seriously remarked: 

“Jess listen, Mars Julus, dem big, flat-foot nig- 
gers er stompin’ like hams on Jim an Nell’s flo’ ! 
Dar dat biggety blabmouf soolk weskut Hansom er 
callin’ de figgus big ernuff swaller Marsus’ barn. 
En he er strick member de chutch enner slam 
singer! Hat nigger sho totin fire en brimstun 
to de debbul ter burn heself in torment furrebber. 
He sputes, do, dat taint ergin de chutch to dance 
ef so be yer doan cross yer laigs. Now, jess listen 
dat Gabril trumpet, holler! Leddies en gents 
chuse yer pards ! All han’s round ! Swing cornd- 
ers! all promernade ! Mister Mario, sugar an 
cane! All sarshay! Mister Mario, candy! Turn 
de simlin round ! Mister Mario, sugar an’ cane ! 
Wheel an’ kiss so handy! Listen dat tummer- 
lummy, tummer-lummy bum, bum, bam! Lawd, 


20 


Lorna Carswell. 


I jiss wan ter git dar en show dem niggers how ter 
cut de pigeon wing en double-shuffle gin-sling! 
An’ rock-candy baby Loo ! 

“Dere now, yer foots en laigs is clean en dried, 
an’ now I must sho be gwine. 

“But, say. Mars Julus, yer member de lass time 
yer paw en maw tuck us ter chutch, en we wuz 
sputing en mazin bout whut mek dem all parsons 
an’ pillars groan en moan so loud endurin’ de 
prar? Us diden know den, but shores yer born, 
Mars Julus, dem folks had done eat too much 
wattermilyun !” 

Schisms between North and South, tariff jeal- 
ousies, class legislation, Wilmot provisos, Missouri 
compromises, Kansas warfares, flagrant aboli- 
tionist rebellion against the spirit and letter of 
the national Constitution and the supreme law of 
the country, curse of slavery, grim and bloody 
war, emancipation, Fifteenth Amendment, the po- 
litical hell of reconstruction, color the only dif- 
ference between black and white, social as well 
as civil equality, carpetbaggism, engendering of 
racial hate and prejudice for political ends solely, 
bigotry, selfishness, frantic fanaticism— this bane- 
ful category was undreamed of by a single slave 
on this Georgia plantation at the time of Nellie 
and Jim’s wedding. 

Of old the Lord permitted Satan to cruelly 
afflict his faithful servant Job, doubtless for a 
wise purpose. The ways of God are mysterious, 
his wonders and mighty evolutions to perform. 
Perhaps the baptism of blood has permitted the 
restless zeal of the ante-bellum abolitionist a little 
solemn thought and quiet, peaceful rest. 


21 


A Story of the South. 

Perhaps, too, in all solemnity as if face to face 
and in the hushed presence of the accusing hosts of 
sacrificial dead, both the blue and the gray ; could 
all the Love joys. Garrisons, Birneys, Wilmots, In- 
galls, Sumners, Harriet Beecher Stowes, Butlers, 
Anthonys, Pomeroys and many others have at- 
tended Nellie’s wedding, or lived but one short 
year in the midst of slaves on Southern planta- 
tions, the history of our country would not have 
been so interwoven and loaded with mistaken hate 
and prejudice and diabolical political strife. 

And perhaps the infamous desperado, John 
Brown, who figured as a howling instigator in the 
scenes of blood and rebellion in Kansas in 1856, 
and in 1859 attempted a plot to arm the slaves in 
peaceful Southern homes with the intent to mur- 
der their masters and mistresses and all whites, re- 
gardless of age or sex, would not have been es- 
teemed and honored as a hero and martyr in some 
Northern cities and States. 

The great Daniel Webster was prophetic when 
he thundered forth these words : 

“If the infernal fanatics and abolitionists ever 
get the power in their hands, they will override the 
Constitution, set the Supreme Court at defiance, 
change and make laws to suit themselves, lay vio- 
lent hands on those who differ from them in their 
opinions or dare question their infallibility, and 
finally bankrupt the country and deluge it with 
blood.” 

But the Lord blessed the latter end of J ob more 
than his beginning. His cattle and substance 
were doubled; seven other sons and three other 
daughters were born unto him to gladden his life 




Lorna Carswell. 


after great tribulations triumphantly passed 
through. “And in all the land were no women 
found so fair as the daughters of J ob.” 

So may it be with the South. 


A Story of the South. 


23 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE SABBATH OH THE PLANTATION. 

How shall we picture that dear old home of 
childhood as the summer’s sun flooded with loving 
radiance each hill and dale, field, forest and flower, 
on that glorious Sunday morning in July of 1859 ! 
There stands the massive white building with every 
column and outline clearly defined against the 
lovely background of luxurious green of oak, hick- 
ory and chestnut grove. The pure morning air 
sifting the trembling dew drops from fluttering 
leaf and blade of grass and petal of rose. The 
broad fields near and afar of cotton and corn and 
wheat and pasture lands undulate in broad ribbons 
of different colorings. The winding roads and for- 
est knolls, cool, shady dells and sinuous valley 
streams. 

Each room and fireside, each person and every 
locality, associated so dearly with some happy rec- 
ollection of childhood hours. Here was mother’s 
room, where there was always found love and sym- 
pathy and rocking to sleep in all troubles and 
griefs. If the little hand or face or foot were hurt 
it was tenderly kissed and soothed until it was 
suddenly well again. If wrong were committed 
through childish passion or ill temper and punish- 


24 


Lorna Carswell. 


ment followed, it was her arms would then encir- 
cle and gradually hush the sighing sough-soughing 
until gentle and deep peace reigned again in 
fretted, disturbed heart. 

There was Lorna and Teln’s room, where we 
romped and played, and Lorna’s pretty school girl 
friends would kiss us and call us little sweetheart. 
And we thought them so beautiful and loved to be 
kissed. 

Up there was big buddie Shelton’s bedroom, 
where we sometimes were invited, and wondered 
why he studied books so much and would not play 
with us more. Sometimes he would take us to ride 
on his fast horse. And father would hold us in his 
arms in the big rocking chair some long winter 
evening before the great oak wood fire and tell us 
so much that we thought he knew all things. 

If we got hungry between meals, good old 
Marma would call us “Honey,” and give us milk 
and bread and butter. 

Jim took us possum hunting and toted us miles 
in the dark woods on his broad shoulders. 

On this Sunday morning all was quiet in the 
fields and down on the two strings of negro cabins. 
Ho halloo of song or roundelay so usual among the 
dusky laborers with plow and hoe was heard. Ho 
sound save perhaps old Marma crooning a hymn 
somewhere in quavering, trusting tone. Groups of 
negroes in their Sunday best homespun strolling 
about or sitting in the doorway and yard of cabin. 

Indoors in the “biggus” the servants were dress- 
ing with great pride their young masters and 
misses for church going. 

There’s the dude coachman. Hansom, in that 


2 5 


A Story of the South. 

same “soolk weskut” Ben spoke to Mars Julns 
about. His kinky hair is all carded to fluff out 
beneath that high beaver churn hat. His number 
eleven shoes are polished like his shining ebony 
face. With gloves on and twirling a beribboned 
carriage whip jauntily he orders the stable boys 
about like a lord. 

“Bresh dat kerridge twill she shine, I doan tole 
yer! Doan leab spec o’ dirt nowhar. Curry en 
rub dem hosses twill Missus’ white soolk hanker- 
cher wouldn’t sile on ’^m. Doan yer know, nigger, 
I’se gwine scort Marster en the Missus en dere 
young gentlemens en leddies ter chutch? Hain’t 
yer got no mo disserpecshun fer de stocracy dan let 
dat Askew nigger’s kerridge tek de shine outen 
ourn ? En dat kurnul Bonner nigger, en dat big 
mouf Cappen White nigger, en dat flat-foot Doctor 
Birt nigger, en de Skrims en Wallers and Percessor 
Northern en dem Ivins en Wheelers, en High- 
towers! Come back hear, you little black rascal, 
an’ bresh en blow ebery spec o’ durt outern her 
insides. ’Spose I gwine low Miss Lorny en de 
rest on em ter sile dere soolks en satins en lilly 
white han’s ! Lawd-a-mussy, you niggers nebber 
will larn specterbul en how ter keep up de squality 
en stocracy. You’d eben sot down en let po white 
trash, whut’s got no niggers, tek de shine offem 
yer own famly. 

"I done tole dem yuther niggers my marser lite 
sugarrs wid forty-dollar bills fifty times er day, 
en dey dassent spute it! Hi dar, you Amy! Go 
fotch on yer bib-en- tucker en Sunday-go-to-meet- 
ins, wid er spic span clean ap’on. Missus done 
saunt en ordered flat yer gerlong ter wait on em 


26 


Lorna Carswell. 


at chutch en tend de shawls en parrysols en 
quooshnns at de meetin house. 

“Yaw, yaw; he-yaw! Dis nigger knows how 
ter hole up de hiferlootins ob he own family ! 
You common feel hands dunno nuttin. Lawd! 
jess looker dat now ! Dere’s Miss Lorny on de 
piazzy lookin’ pooty ezzer pictur en sweetern 
sorgum lasses. Jess looker dem big soff black 
eyes en dem teeny itsy bitsy foots! Bless dat 
honey chile. I’se ben driwen her in dis kerridge 
ebber sence her wuz a lilly baby. Dere nebber 
wuz bawned a pootier gal in Georgy dan our own 
Miss Lorny ! Lass Sunday her gimme dissher 
soolk wesket what marser mek dat big speech in, 
en hit jess good as new. Miss Lorny good uz her’s 
pooty ! En dar Miss Teln. Her sho hansom like 
red shoes wid ribbon strings. En Mars Shelton, 
he growin’ up like er soople jack saplin. En Mars 
Julus! Lawd, de whoop ins he maw hatter gin 
em fer runnin erway on Sundays en feeshin wid 
dat bullet haid nigger Ben ! En Marser en 
Missus, now, wid mos grown chillun, look nigh 
bout spry en lubly ez de day I druy ef fum chutch 
when dey wuz fuss married. Terbesho — terbesho. 

“Yessum, Missus, I’se cornin’.” 

And Hansom mounted the box and drove in 
great style round to the front gate, opened the 
carriage door, let down the steps, stood aside, hat 
in hand, until all “his f am’ly” were in ; then drove 
rapidly away to the church. 


A Story of the South. 


27 


CHAPTER VI. 

MASTER AND SLAVE AND THE CHURCH. 

On this Sunday morning the Carswell family 
attended services at the old Smyrna Country 
Church, noted far and wide for its annual camp 
meetings. 

In slavery days these camp meetings were popu- 
lar with both white and black. With the latter 
because of the holidays and extra abundance of 
the luxuries and fat of the land ; with the former 
because of the general social reunion of the 
country families as well as the interest in religion. 
There were plenty of servants to do all the neces- 
sary labor and cooking. But since the war camp 
meetings have become rare in the South. The 
church was surrounded by acres of shady grove 
cleaned up like a big park. The building was 
ample for both white and black. 

When Hansom dashed up in all his pride and 
glory with his “’stocracy famTy,” there were 
already dozens of similar turnouts dotting the 
grove. The “slave aristocracy” of abolition speak- 
ers and writers was numerously represented by 
carriages with fine horses, negro coachmen, and 
one or more servants. The class denominated by 
Ben’s biggety nigger Hansom as “po’ white trash” 


28 


Lorna Carswell. 


came in wagons, on foot and horseback. The re- 
fined and cultured owners of slaves never made 
the distinction of class between holders and non- 
holders of slaves as the darkies did. On the con- 
trary, the best of feeling and respect prevailed be- 
tween the two white classes. But the darkey 
thought that any white family not owning “nig- 
gers” hardly deserved his decent respect. 

Sometimes the slave owner would lend or hire 
slaves to his poorer neighbor who was behind in 
his crop. 

On one occasion an unusual hilarity and roar- 
ing laughter down on the string was heard one 
Saturday night. Willis, a big strong athlete and 
expert hoe hand, had been hired by his master to 
a non-slave owner to help him hoe out a grassy 
cotton field. The white man was noted as close 
and stingy, and whenever he hired a negro he 
was bound to get out of him all the labor possi- 
ble in a given time. 

Now Willis was such an educated expert with 
the hoe that he could cut swiftly within almost 
a hair’s breadth of a cotton stalk with a sharp 
hoe and shave the grass away, not touching the 
stalk. He did the work with rapid ease, but it 
was well done. 

“Tell yer what, niggers,” Willis recounted, 
“whenner got dar arly a Monday mornin’ he wuz 
er sottin’ on de fench o’ dat cotton feel waitin’ 
fumme. De sun jess up good, enna know de 
day gwine be er scorcher. Sez ’e, ‘You de nigger 
Kunnel Carsle saunt me?’ Sez I, ‘Yasser, I’se 
him.’ I’d leff ’fore brekfuss en’ wuz hongry, but 
sez ’e, ‘Yer too late fer brekfuss, en’ we’ll start 


29 


A Story of the South. 

right now/ Dog-gone ! He so stingy he callate 
save mer brekfuss fer mer dinner. Sez ’e, ‘Kin 
yer hoe a full tass?’ Sez I, ‘I dunno, but I’ll do 
mer best to kep up wid yer/ Sez ’e, ‘Now look 
here, you nigger, ef you doan hoe many rows ez 
I duz, I’ll ’port yer to yer massei an’ won’t pay 
full wages fer yer/ ‘All rite,’ says I, lookin’ as 
lazy an’ no-’count ez er could ’sume. ‘Spose, 
boss, yer gwine wuck all de time wid me,’ sez I. 
‘Yes,’ sez ’e. Wid dat us commence. Lawd ! yer 
orter see dat po’ white trash wuck. I jess grin 
sidewise so he couldn’t see, en’ hit slow chops, en’ 
let ’im git out fuss. He den look vaggus like at 
me ez ef he newster order’n ’roun’ niggers, en’ 
sez ’e, ‘Here, yer dam’ black rascal! Yer gotter 
kep up, do yer hear me?’ ‘Yasser,’ sez I, ‘but 
will yer ’gree dat ef I kep up en’ hoe ’zactly 
many rows ez you, then hit’ll be squar, enner won’t 
hatter hoe more’n you ?’ ‘0, yes,’ sez he, ‘I shorely 
’gree ter dat.’ ‘Honess injun, now, masser,’ sez 
I. ‘Honness injun,’ sez ’e, in mighty good hu- 
mor. Wid dat I smole er smile en’ he smile er 
smole, en’ us started ergin. Good Lawd ! Dat 
man wuck liker bulljine. I jess easy like swing 
erlong er singin’ en’ got out de row wid ’im. He 
look at me mazed, en’ pounce on ernudder row. 
Den I gin ter show mer raisin’ en’ mek de hoe git 
on er little mo’ sperrit en’ walk out dat row 
hundred foot ahaid en’ sot down en’ ’tend like 
mer hoe need fixin’. He wuck en’ he blow en’ 
’e sweat, but ’e nebber sed nuffin, do he look like 
’e thunk er heap. I wuz dry en’ cool en’ narry 
drap o’ sweat, en’ he wuz bilin’ hot en’ wet ez 
rain. I let ’im git ’way haid ’fore I start, a-sot- 


30 


Lorna Carswell. 


tin’ dar kerflummixin like wid mer hoe. Den I 
wuek dat row rite 'long up ter ’im en’ pass im 
er singin’ soft ter merself, en git out hundred 
yards ahaid en’ sot on top de fench cool like en’ 
watch ’im. Bombye he cuss, enne chop up a fine 
cotton stalk enne cuss mo’ louder. Den ’e say, 
‘Dammit, yer ain’t half hoein’ dat cotton.’ Den, 
curous like, I walk back en’ ax ’im whar de place 
not hoed, enne can’t fine ’em. Bet yer I kep 
outern retch o’ he hoe, do ! My row wuz hoed bet- 
ter’n his’n. Den in de scurryin’ he chop er toe 
en’ de sweat po’, an’ he cuss scandlus en’ leff de 
feel. Ha, hah ! haw, haw ! ar-r-r he yar-r-r ! En’ 
I feenish dat grassy patch o’ eight aker mer lone 
self in free days, jess saunterin’ ’long, hollerin’ an’ 
singin’, en’ den come home. I seed ’im watch 
me wuck ez ef he woosh he wuz er nigger like me 
wid der hoe ! I’se sho a man wid er hoe.” 

While reciting this, Willis acted the whole pro- 
ceeding admirably and was repeatedly interrupted 
with roars of laughter by his numerous audience. 
At the point where he imitated the white man 
hoeing as if for life to keep up, his hearers 
whooped and rolled on the floor and roared. And 
when he reached the toe-chopping and grabbed 
up one foot and hopped about cussing like fury, 
some of his listeners almost went into spasms. 

But let us return to the church. 

Many of the sons of wealthy planters came 
well mounted, having great pride in fine horse 
flesh. The more pretentious were attended by 
servants also on good horses. These attendants 
always rode a respectful distance behind the young 
masters. Some of the poor whites came riding 


3i 


A Story of the South. 

double, the woman on the same horse behind the 
man. Then comes a country swain, 'with his 
pretty red-cheeked lass a-riding twice. Now see 
how he covertly spurs the horse to make it jump 
and cavort about so that the girl has to throw 
her arms around him and hold on tight to keep 
from falling off! Whenever that fellow trades 
horses the first question is, “Will your creeter tote 
double ? And how is it on cavortin’ when 
spurred ?” 

How different that old married couple yonder, 
also riding twice. Uncle Jimmy Jones with a 
big pillow on the saddle under him, and his wife, 
Aunt Jemima, on another big pillow behind, se- 
dately riding up on their old gray “critter,” the 
whole turnout looking as amazingly solemn as a 
very ignorant but bigoted country preacher. Uncle 
Jimmy did not make his “critter” cavort about, 
not the least bit. This old couple were the special 
proteges of Mrs. Carswell. They were Uncle Jim- 
my and Aunt J emimy to everybody, both white and 
black. 

Besides the coachmen and servant boys and 
girls, many other negroes came to church. Yonder 
comes a two-mule wagon load of them in their Sun- 
day best. People went to church in those days. The 
unchristian, inhuman, savage, brutal, ferocious 
Southern whites, who so infuriated the abolition 
spellbinders because they owned as actual proper- 
ty human beings, under the supreme law of the 
country, were civilized and generally well educated 
and refined social beings who believed in God and 
humbly and sincerely worshipped in His tem- 
ples. 


32 


Lorna Carswell, 


As the time for service drew nigh the grove was 
alive with ipeople of all ages, degrees and color, 
and the scene and faces indicated prosperity, con- 
tent and happiness. 

A spacious upper gallery was built at the back 
end of the church for negro attendants, and when 
occasion demanded it several of the back rows 
of seats on the lower floor were reserved for them. 
All are now seated reverently waiting as the dis- 
tinguished minister, ripe scholar and profound 
theologian, Bishop George F. Pierce, ascended 
into the old-fashioned box pulpit. For one short 
hour he thrilled the hearts of his hearers, both 
white and black, with masterly eloquence. Some 
wept quietly, all were rapt and spellbound. Many 
of the emotional negroes could hardly repress 
cries and shouts as the sermon proceeded from 
'one eloquent period to another, like resistless 
waves rolling from the sea of time outward into 
the ocean of eternity. 

It was communion day. The sermon prepared 
all hearts for reverently bowing in confession and 
faith. The peace of God which passeth all un- 
derstanding pervaded the souls of His people 
there present. When the whites, both rich and 
poor, had kneeled together and partaken of the 
sacred emblems of the broken body and shed 
blood of the Saviour of all mankind, and retired 
to their seats, the humble faithful slaves were 
then and there invited to the same altar and 
shared the same holy communion served by the 
same distinguished minister and his co-laborers. 
The scene will never be forgotten — that long row 
of black faces as they filed down the aisle and 


A Story of the South. 33 

kneeled at God’s altar to partake of the bread 
of life, free to all. 

So when the communion service closed and the 
doors of the church were opened, the whites were 
first invited and several joined; the blacks were 
then invited and many joined, and were given 
the right hand of fellowship by the bishop, and 
their names enrolled with the names of the whites 
as members of the same church. 

Now, if my Abolitionist had been there that 
summer’s day I really believe he would have then 
and there been converted on some points, and 
this true chronicle need never have been written. 
But no, come to think over the matter a moment, 
we really do not think he would have been. He 
would have kicked up the devil and raised Cain 
and howled there was no religion in it at all 
because a distinction had been made between 
black and white in giving the whites precedence. 

But do not despair. When uncompromising 
theory-smashing Brother Experience, assisted ably 
by Brother Contact, shall have preached to him 
and his satellites for thirty-odd years after this 
sermon of Bishop Pierce, we believe many of 
his doctrines on social equality and miscegena- 
tion will topple and fall. Yea, more. There 
will creep in harassing doubts on the hastily 
adopted tenets on elective franchise, and the pas- 
sionately eloquent harangues of the past in the 
latter day experience will read like sounding brass 
and tinkling cymbals. Perhaps some will lose 
faith even in the fictitious inhuman devils who 
were represented as paying out lots of money 
for valuable slave property, with the diabolical 


34 


Lorna Carswell. 


purpose of starving, beating, working, bruising 
and wounding the same even unto death, or at 
least utter incapacity for labor. 

We haven’t got the Jeremiades about the free- 
dom of the negro. If one dash of the pen could 
re-enslave them there is not an ex-slave holder 
now living in the South who would make the 
stroke. As the incidents of subsequent chapters 
unfold, the reader will catch the true meaning 
and spirit of the times. The most fatal errors, 
whether of misplaced zeal or unworthy partizan- 
ship or of sectional hate, were made after the 
emancipation, regarding the negro’s position as a 
citizen. 

There were no organized slave churches or con- 
gregations with negro pastors in this part of the 
country in those days. 

At the close of this Sunday morning service 
masters and slaves joined voices in the grand 
doxology that originated at the dedication of 
King Solomon’s Temple. 

Several of the white ministers preached that 
afternoon to negro congregations on the planta- 
tions. Some of the larger planters had churches 
built on their places for such services. 

A certain brother H was noted as con- 

scientiously zealous in this work of the Lord in 
preaching to the negroes. It was a matter of 
business with him to expound to them the Word 
of God and the plan of salvation through Jesus 
Christ, and he saw to it that his flock should not 
only attend but should listen to him as well. 
The slaves gladly went to his meetings. 

On one occasion a big, fat darkey, named 


35 


A Story of the South. 

Smoky Joe, just about a full grown man then, 
was sitting on the front bench and nodded dan- 
gerously. In the midst of the sermon Smoky 
Joe went to sleep and fell off the seat to the floor. 
It startled the sleepy-headed congregation just 
as the falling of a child off the bed in the dead 
of the night startles the sleeping mother. 

Smoky Joe picked himself up, sat up on the 
bench again, and was afflicted by a shamed, 
sheepy, dry grin. The large congregation sniffled 
and sniggered in suppressed emotion. 

Brother H stopped short in the midst of a. 

resounding period and looked threateningly at Joe 
for a full minute, just as the old-fashioned school- 
teacher would look at a boy who had been swap- 
ping marbles on the sly during school hours, while 
the teacher was hearing a class, and accidentally 
let a pocketful fall rattling and rolling all over 
the school house floor. 

As the boy thought the last marble would never 
quit rolling, so the unlucky Joe thought the 
preacher’s sermon would never start again. 

“Smoky J oe, stand up !” 

Joe slouched up and stood gangling and solemn- 
ly smirking. 

“Go out to my buggy, sir, at once, and bring 
me my buggy whip.” 

“Yasser.” And Joe went with alacrity and 
came back with the whip, handed it up to the 
preacher and stood waiting. 

“Now, sir, the next rascal that nods or goes 
to sleep while I am preaching will get one hundred 
lashes with this whip right here and now. When 


36 


Lorna Carswell. 


I come to preach to you, you have all got to listen ! 
Take your seat, sir, and sit up straight \” 

Brother H then set the buggy whip up by 

him in the pulpit, and deliberately proceeded to 
finish the sermon at length. 


A Story of the South. 


37 


CKAFTEK VII. 

W I li L I S AND CUPID. 

As the congregation dispersed from the church 
and drove homeward, a tall and fine athlete negro, 
some twenty-odd years of age, was observed 
mounting a horse among the last to leave. He 
seemed purposely to linger so as to get away by 
himself. It is no other than our friend Willis, 
the man with a hoe. 

One of the young white gentlemen, who was 
also belated because of a lingering devotion to our 
own fair Lorna, as he waited on her to the Carswell 
carriage, seeing Willis, and thinking his move- 
ments and manner somewhat suspicious, rode 
briskly up to him and asked, “What is your name, 
boy ?” 

“Dey call me Willis, sar, ceppen when dey 
goferme en’ fetch me,” pulling off his hat in hum- 
ble politeness. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

“Ter Mars Kurnul Carsul, sar!” pompously. 

“0, well yes, indeed, you do, do you? Where 
are you going?” 

“Deed, sar, young marser, I dunno ’zactly 


38 Lorna CarswelT. 

whay I’se gVine,” grinning in good humor from 
ear to ear. 

“Don’t know? That’s queer, Willis! Have you 
a pass?” 

“0, yassar, I alius gits one on ’em.” 

“Let me see it,” peremptorily. 

Willis joyously grinned as he carefully took a 
slip of paper from the inside lining of his hat, 
and readily handed it to the young man. 

“Miss Lomy writ it for me,” great love and re- 
spect for his young mistress in the very tones of 
his voice. 

The young gentleman read with slightly 
flushed interest the following, in a neat, girlish 
writing : 

“Rural Shades, Saturday, July — , 1859. 

“Pass the bearer, Willis, on horseback, Sunday 
to the Birt plantation, via Smyrna Church. 

“Edward Carswell (per L.).” 

“Ha, ha! haw, he haw! Young marser! De 
patterrollers kaint tech dis nigger, kin dey?” 

“Ho, Willis, my good fellow, it’s all right. 
Here’s a half-dollar for you.” 

“Tankee, masser; tankee, sar.” 

“But, say, why don’t you know precisely where 
you are going ?” 

“Jess bekaze en’ bercause en’ causin’ kaze I dun- 
no,” smiling sheepishly. 

“Well, I guess you are on a courting expedition, 
Willis,” handing back the pass and galloping off. 

“Fer gorrimity, sakes er live! Wonner huccum 
dat young buckra kno’ dat ? Speekums in lub, too, 


39 


A Story of the South. 

kaze why, huccumme gimme dishere haffy dolly, 
ceppen ’twuz Miss Lorny’s writin’ saffen he feel- 
in’s ? I’se sho’ g’wine ter git Miss Lorny ter writ 
all mer pass atter dis. O-oomph! Dat quile sho’ 
wucks merryculs !” 

To understand what Willis meant by “dat 
quile,” we must return to the Saturday morning 
previous. 

Before Colonel Carswell left the country home 
for the town office, Willis hesitatingly approached 
him and said, “Marster, kin I see yer?” 

“Yes, Willis, here I am. Come, speak out. 
What is it?” 

Solemnly and sadly Willis began: 

“Mars Eddard, dars er kurous hant quiled 
(coiled) rustless like all de time ’roun’ mer in- 
nards rite dar,” striking his heavy hand over the 
region of his heart. “Sometimes de quile whirry 
jess like Mars Julus flutter wheel on de branch 
when the dam broke. Den ergin it ar jublous 
like Miss Lomy er-playin’ sweet like on de 
pianny, enner I feel like hoein’ ten akers o’ cotton 
in er day, singin’ corn songs de while. Anudder 
time de hant quile en’ tighten hard en’ drag me 
’way down de low groun’s ersorrer like er big 
lump choke, enner don’t keer eben nuttin’ ’bout 
g’wine ’possum huntin’ when ’simmons is ripe. 
Tell yer, Mars Eddard, sumpun g’wine happen, 
or dis nigger tricked, sho’.” And Willis looked 
mournfully about. 

“Where did you go last Sunday, Willis?” 

“Yer knows, marser, hit wuz ter see dat lubly 
Cindy gal whut ’longs ter de Bonners.” 

“And where did you go the Sunday before?” 


40 


Lorna Carswell. 


“He, he! ha, ha! he-arr! Masser, dat Sunday 
I wuz sparkin’ dat sumptous gal over ter Doctor 
Birtfs place, named Loo.” 

“Now look here, Willis, you are in love.” 

“De Lawd save us. Mars Eddard, you reckin 
datfs whutfs de matter?” 

“Yes, and you are violating my known wishes 
in that you go courting away from my own plan- 
tation. There are plenty of good girls right here 
at home who would make you an excellent wife. 
This marrying a wife belonging to other people 
gives two chances to one of a future separation of 
husband and wife and children. Men die, estates 
have to be settled, divisions of property made, 
and there are some masters who may disregard 
family ties among slaves. You know if you mar- 
ry here at home this would never happen if any 
living member of my family could possibly pre- 
vent it. Your mistress was one of the heirs of a 
large slave estate, and when division of property 
was made all the heirs agreed that no negro fami- 
lies should be separated against the will of any 
one of them. I seriously object to your getting 
a wife away from my own plantation.” 

“But, marser, what erbout de quile? Hit stay 
right dar enner kaint hep it, ceppen I marry dat 
Cindy or dat Loo. Swar ter Gawd! dat hant 
quile is curous.” 

“What did the Bonner girl say?” 

“Her let on dat her marser done give her ter 
he darter, Miss Lizzie, who she berry much 
’tached, en’ she ain’t gVine leab her Miss Lizzie 
nohow. Fudder’n dat, her say yer coulden’ buy 
her, not eben fer two thousan’ dollar, kaze Miss 


4i 


A Story of the South. 

Lizzie she say so. Sides, rudder’n leab de place 
her ’lowd dat she’d marry dat blunderhed yaller 
Jake nigger what ’longs to de Bonners. I sho’ 
hates dat Jake nigger!” 

“Well, and what did the Birt girl say?” 

“She ’lowd de Birt ’state would soon hatter he 
wided, en’ speckum all he sole dis fall, ’scusin’ de 
arrs didn’t complemize on er wizion. En’ her 
dunno whar’s she he, but wharebber it wuz she 
would ’member me ez her own troo lub. 0, mar- 
ser, dat quile is er chokin’ mer goozle ergin ! I 
lub mer Loo !” 

“Here, Willis, stop and listen to me. How if I 
should build a new cabin for you under that big 
sweetgum tree down at the end of the spring, and 
manage to purchase the sumptuous Loo for your 
bride, and have her preside over your hoecake 
and rasher and baked ’possums with sweet pota- 
toes the balance of your life — how about that 
‘quile’ in your heart now?” 

“De good Lawd ferreber bless yer, Mars Ed- 
dard, fer dat ! Mars Julus dam done broke ergin, 
Miss Lorn/s playin’ hebbenly music, en’ I’se hoe- 
in’ ten akers o’ cotton er day, er singin’ en’ er 
shoutin’. Marser, kin I git dat horse termorry 
en’ go tell Loo?” 

“Can’t say now, Willis, you have to carry a 
heavy sack of corn meal and flour away over the 
hills to old Aunt Jemima this afternoon. Uncle 
Jimmy is old and has no negroes to work crops 
for him. Your mistress was over there to see 
them yesterday and left some other supplies. If 
the horse is not too tired when you return we will 
see about it. You can now go.” 


42 


Lorna Carswell. 


Late that afternoon when the master returned 
home Willis eagerly reported: 

“Marser, dat horse ain't tired a bit, kaze he 
didn't hatter tote dat sack narry step on de way." 

“What! Didn't you carry that heavy sack to 
Aunt Jemima as I ordered you to?" 

“0, yasser, tubbesho, but he nebber tote it. I 
tote dat sack .all de way merself." 

“Yes, but didn't you ride the hoarse?" 

“Ya-yasser, I rid 'im, en' ebry step uv de way 
dat sack wuz on top my shoulders, en' enner, so I 
tote de sack, en' de horse he only tote me." 

Willis became anxious and very much puzzled 
as his master silently gazed at him intently. He 
turned his hat round and round in his hands, 
then thoughtfully scratched his kinky head and 
looked first at the ground and then at his master 
in turns. Something in the twinkle of the mas- 
ter’s steady gaze solved the problem, and he real- 
ized the situation suddenly and all of a heap — 
something like the absent-minded man, who rode 
four miles to town and walked back within half- 
mile of home before he remembered his horse. 

You could have heard his laugh amid the thun- 
derous roar of Bull Bun or Gettysburg. 

“Ha, ha-r-r-r ! he-ar-r y-a-rr ! Whoop ! Des 
looken dat! Swar ter Gawd, marser! O-oomph, 
ain't dis nigger big fool — whole pack er fools! 
Well! Sho' nuff, de critter tote de sack, too !" 

And he roared again, bending and swaying. 
“En’ all de whiles I wuz thinkin' er nuttin' 'cep 
Loo and dat new cabin enner blasted big sweet- 
gum tree. We-11, sar ! Beats de debble, sho !" 


43 


A Story of the South. 

He got the horse and the pass written by Miss 
Lorny, on condition he go first to hear Bishop 
Pierce preach, and afterward to see his “sump- 
tous” Loo. 


44 


Lorna Carswell 


CHAPTER VIII. 

OUR ABOLITIONIST APPEARS ON THE SCENE. 

Theodore Selkirk was one of the sons of a 
Hew York State farmer. At the age of eighteen, 
by hard savings, he managed to go to Elmira, N. 
Y., to study law. At twenty-one he was admitted 
to the bar. With hardly enough money to pay 
a montlTs board, after railroad and stage fares, 
he landed, or rather settled, in a remote Western 
tillage and bravely opened a law office. The 
country then was newly settled by a scattering 
but hardy class of rugged spirits. Everything 
was rough and hard compared with the home left 
in the East, but young Selkirk, backed by a good 
education from both literary and law schools, as 
well as a grim determination to stick to the one 
thing, his chosen profession of the law, burned 
his ships behind him and went to work. 

Believing that knowledge is power, ambitious, 
and possessed of a dogged perseverance in any 
cause when once undertaken, by the closest econ- 
omy he managed to keep soul and body together 
the first two years. A weaker mind than his 
would have given up the ill-chosen profession, 


A Story of the South. 45 

apparently, for the locality, and entered other ave- 
nues more immediately lucrative. 

Selkirk did not make this mistake. Naturally 
frank, polite, quick in discernment, he made warm 
friends in the rough village. Law cases were few 
and far between, and his wants went far over and 
beyond his income; hut he persistently shaved 
down necessities to fit his purse, lived hard, 
studied hard, hut always clung desperately and 
solely to his self-elected calling in life, the law. 

That such characteristics are unfailing elements 
of success, his fortune and fame in after years 
proved. 

One summer’s day, in 1859, he was sitting in 
his humble shanty office, keeping up his courage 
by studying the histories of men who had achieved 
honors and fortune and fame from as poor be- 
ginnings as his own present circumstances. 

A man of middle age, somewhat seedy and care- 
worn in appearance, walked in and introduced 
himself as Clayton and as a would-be client. He 
explained to Selkirk that he was one of the heirs 
to a large body of real estate away South in the 
State of Georgia; that said lands had become 
valuable — worth many thousands of dollars — and 
that the entire estate was now being illegally held 
by one branch of the family; and he wanted the 
young lawyer to undertake the recovery of a just 
portion by legal process. 

Clayton had wandered West in mining interests, 
had failed, and had no money to pay even a re- 
tainer or any legal fees or costs, but would agree 
that if Selkirk recovered his portion he would 
give over to him one-half. From Clayton’s ac- 


Lorna Carswell. 


46 

count in full detail of the matter and the papers 
he produced relative thereto, it appeared a strong 
case in his favor to the young lawyer. But he 
frankly explained to Clayton his circumstances, 
and that he could not even pay his way South to 
investigate the matter, much less could he under- 
take other heavy costs that would accrue in in- 
stituting and maintaining legal process. 

Here the matter seemed to end. But some 
weeks later Clayton called again with a little 
money to help pay railroad and stage fares. The 
result was that Selkirk agreed to go to Georgia 
and investigate the claim. By close scraping he 
managed to get enough money, added to what 
Clayton furnished, to cover the estimated ex- 
pense of the trip. 

The ambitious young lawyer was a strong aboli- 
tionist, from a conscientious, honest, Christian 
point of view. With thousands of others, he had 
read the stirring political pamphlet on the fugitive 
slave law, published in 1852, “Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin,” and believed it all, both the pitiable facts 
and the highly misrepresenting and overdrawn 
fictions. The Clayton lands were in the same 
county where Colonel Carswell lived. After a 
thorough investigation of the matter, the case 
appeared altogether different from Clayton’s, be- 
lief and statements, and Selkirk gave it up as not 
worth a legal fight. 

The hard journey, worry, vexation and disap- 
pointment ended in sickness, by which he was de- 
tained for more than ten days. When able to be 
up again, to his utter consternation and misery, 
after paying hotel and doctor bills, he had hardly 


47 


A Story of the South. 

a dollar left. Unknown, a stranger among 
strangers, no money, and a thousand miles from 
home. Feeling much depressed in mind and body, 
he aimlessly walked the streets of the Southern 
town. Everything and everybody appeared pros- 
perous and happy, except himself. He envied the 
strong negro servants and wagon drivers their 
careless joking and laughing condition. Inci- 
dentally observing a law office sign, a kind of in- 
tuitive professional feeling caused him to ascend 
the street stairway and knock at the door, with no 
special aim or purpose in view. 

A business-like but cheerful voice answered, 
“Come in,” and Selkirk found himself in a well 
appointed elegantly furnished office, face to face 
with its clever and brightly intelligent owner. 

Colonel Carswell had risen and stood with polite 
inquiry in his clear eyes regarding Selkirk. Every 
appointment about Carswell, dress, bearing and 
all, indicated clearly to Selkirk the well educated, 
refined and polished business gentleman. 

He managed to introduce himself, was seated 
and hesitated what to say. 

How could he, a perfect stranger, ask or expect 
help, or even sympathy, from this evidently prom- 
inent business man of affairs and of wealth ? And 
then how exceedingly embarrassing the situation. 
Would his story be believed in even? 

All this flashed through his perturbed mind 
much quicker than it could have been spoken. 

At this moment our pompous Hansom appeared 
at the door, hat in hand, and said, “Marster, ker- 
ridge ready, sar.” 

Selkirk, glad of excuse, said something about 


48 


Lorna Carswell. 


calling and attempted to retire, but Carswell or- 
dered Hansom to return to his carriage and wait; 
then turning to his visitor, said: 

“Well, my young gentleman, there is something 
you wish to say. I am entirely at your service. 
How tell me squarely and frankly what it is and 
why you are here.” 

As Carswell spoke he advanced, and taking Sel- 
kirk’s hand, warmly grasped it. The genial tone 
and manner, as well as the handsome appearance 
and kindly eye and warm hand-grasp, captivated 
the visitor. He looked his host squarely in the 
eyes and frankly explained his present condition 
from beginning to end, hiding nothing. The keen, 
honest eye of Colonel Carswell seemed to be read- 
ing him through and through as he attentively 
listened. He could keep back nothing — not even 
the fact that he was in principles an abolitionist. 
Somehow he was drawn to lay bare the whole his- 
tory of his life. 

“Why not write^ your father to send you 
money ?” 

“My father is poor and hard-working. He gave 
me all, and more, too, than he was able, to com- 
plete my college and law studies. Eather than 
apply to him and distress my mother, as much as 
they have sacrificed in the past for me, I would 
hire out as a day laborer.” Tears were in Sel- 
kirk’s voice, but he managed to control himself. 

Colonel Carswell noted how the grateful memo- 
ry of father and mother affected the young man. 
He already felt that Selkirk was worthy of his 
confidence and esteem, but he wished to draw him 
out a little more still. 


A Story of the South. 49 

“You mentioned the leading and only mer- 
chant of your small Western village. Would not 
he loan you the money now so necessary ?” 

“No, sir, candidly, he would not — even to his 
own kith and kin. He is squarely honest and 
reliable, and has the means, too, yet he is pecu- 
liarly close and miserly about parting with a dol- 
lar of his money, even temporarily. He knows 
me well, of course, and has often trusted me to 
look after and collect money for him. But I 
know well enough it would simply prove a waste 
of time to write him and wait his reply.” 

The young man again looked downcast. Then, 
rising, he continued: “There is no one at my old 
home or at my Western village that I would apply 
to. I know I am an utter stranger to you, sir, 
and it would he presumptive to expect from you 
unconditional trust and confidence, with no recom- 
mendation save my own bare word. Here, sir, is 
my gold watch and chain, worth at least seventy- 
five dollars. Take it as security and let me have 
fifty dollars, and when I get hack home I will 
economize and redeem it as soon as practicable.” 

The older man looked intently in secret ad- 
miration at the flushed face of the younger, who 
in turn met his gaze squarely in the eyes. Then, 
without taking the watch or saying a word, the 
elder lawyer opened a safe in the office, took 
therefrom a roll of bills, and quietly handed the 
same to the young lawyer. 

Selkirk glanced through it with dimmed eyes 
as he saw it was one hundred dollars. 

“Ho, no; I can manage to get home on half 


50 Lorna Carswell. 

this. Take back fifty dollars and keep the watch 
and chain.” 

“Keep the whole amount, my young friend, 
and put the watch back in your pocket.” 

“But suppose something should happen to me 
far away and you fail to receive back your more 
than kind loan? It may prove several months 
before I can save up even fifty dollars and re- 
turn it to you.” 

“Allow me to say, my boy, that your honest 
face is all the security I shall or will accept, and 
that you must take the entire amount.” 

This was said so firmly, yet so kindly and well- 
ing up in tender sympathy, that the young man 
saw that any further offers or protests on his part 
would wound a noble heart. So he did as he was 
bid to do, and then, warmly grasping the hand 
of the new made friend in deed, he attempted to 
speak a goodbye, but his heart was too full for 
utterance. He returned to the hotel, mentally 
recording a vow that if ever in his life, under any 
circumstances, he could in turn do Colonel Cars- 
well a good deed, he would do so, God being his 
helper ! 

And so in 1859 the slave holder and abolitionist 
parted — the South and the North — to meet again 
some day after the events of Appomattox. 


A Story of the South. 


5i 


CHAPTER IX. 

THEN AND NOW YANKEE ABOLITIONIST SOUTH 

AFTER THE WAR. 

When the Carswell carriage that Sunday morn- 
ing disappeared round a curve of the red clay road 
with the last gleam of the fortunate Amy’s white 
apron as she sat proudly on the servant’s seat be- 
hind and outside, we left the house servants at the 
gateway and on the doorsteps of “Rural Shades.” 

.The picture is thronged with moving forms as 
though the dead past in a dream marched in re- 
view by the living present. Our faithful friends, 
though slaves, old Marma, Merric, Andrew, Den- 
nis, Ben, Raymond, Sukey, Emma, Lila and Jane, 
are left with utmost confidence and trust in entire 
charge of the home of their beloved master and 
mistress, with whatever of stores, valuables, jew- 
elry, souvenirs, ornaments, trinkets, or wares of 
silver and gold it may contain. Never did one of 
them betray the trust reposed. Good and faithful 
servants of yore ! No one of you will ever be for- 
gotten. And no voice of self reproach jars a single 
memory of those days connected with you. 

That the reader may fully enter into the spirit 
of the times, we will have to give some of the un- 
pleasant history of the day. Spasmodic, hysterical 


52 


Lorna Carswell. 


abolition writers gloated and reveled in fanatic 
zeal, real or pretended, in portraying the negro 
slave in the South as utterly unprotected and 
having no rights under the laws of the land — as 
devoid of rights in every respect as a bale of mer- 
chandise; and that there were ten chances of his 
finding an abusive and tyrannical master to one 
of his finding a considerate and kind one; that 
negro girls had no hope or protection, but were 
forced to a life of shame at the will of their mas- 
ters ; masters are described as killing slaves in gar- 
rets, openly beating others to death, and even 
burning slaves at the stake at will. These same 
hysterics, in order t further fire the Northern 
heart and obtain the co-operation of Northern mis- 
isters of the gospel, portray negro slaves, some 
young, some old, as never having heard or known 
of a Bible or of God or of Jesus Christ. A planta- 
tion of slaves is represented as being forced to do 
the regular field labor on the Sabbath, like any 
other day of the week, and no law to help. May- 
hem and branding in the hand of slaves is men- 
tioned as if common practice at the will of the 
master. So deep and far and wide was truth dis- 
torted under the privileges and guise of fiction in 
order to carry out political aims and purposes, 
that a Southern white woman, the mistress of 
slaves, is represented as forbidding or preventing 
her black servant, the mother of a little babe in 
arms, from giving nourishment or food to the 
child, and forcibly separating the black mother 
from the black child in the same house, until the 
child actually dies alone in a garret, sick and 
starved to death. 


53 


A Story of the South. 

These are only a few samples of the character 
of the abolition literature, stump speeches and 
pulpit orations of those days, prior and up 
to the beginning of this true story. If such 
writers and speakers and preachers did not 
afterward repent in dust and ashes for com- 
mitting such wholesale and retail libels upon 
Southern life and character, may God have 
mercy upon their souls ! The blood of the 
pitiless dead of Antietam, Malvern Hill, Rich- 
mond and Murfreesborough cries out against them 
from the ground. 

Even our intelligent Theodore Selkirk, never 
having lived in a slave State, believed most, if not 
all, of these libels. The glimpse he caught of 
Southern life and character, both slaves and mas- 
ters, in his memorable trip to Georgia, and his con- 
tact and experience with the noble and generous 
Carswell, were altogether unexpected revelations. 

The insatiable morbid cravings of certain classes 
for viewing human suffering, whether real or 
imaginary, and the greed for gain on the part of 
enterprising caterers pandering to such known hu- 
man frailty, still keep paraded on the stage before 
crowded houses in certain States the aforesaid 
libels. Still inculcating in the minds and hearts 
of the youth of the country, born since the great 
Civil War, the spirit and seeds of sectional mis- 
understanding, hate and prejudice. The impos- 
sible Legree is still beating TJncle Tom to death : 
the escaped mulatto convict of the branded hand 
is still unfolding with heaving breast his grandi- 
oso, furioso fictitious tale of woe. The generous, 
emotional Southern mind for some years after the 


54 


Lorna Carswell. 


war was fretted and exasperated by the persistent 
slanders of demagogues ; bnt long since, seeing that 
indignant protests and assertions of the truth 
availed nothing, we became callous to such opin- 
ions and silently indifferent. It is worthy of note 
that some colleges North are now expunging from 
their libraries some of the most noted ante-bellum 
abolition works. 

These abolition writers and speakers, prior to 
1859 were, as a rule, about as ignorant of the 
true state of affairs in the South as a good Yankee 
friend of mine was, back about 1880, when he first 
arrived at Starke, Florida. He had never been 
South. I judged by his correspondence before 
coming that he labored under the impression that 
even his life would not be safe away down in Flor- 
ida, in case any of the old ex-slave owners were 
still living here. 

He was a man of soul, and he came, he saw — I 
conquered ! 

But 0 risibilis-ridere-risum ! when we rode out 
that first morning to view the town and land and 
orange groves ! 

Before starting he was persuaded to lay aside 
his arsenal. Talk about the energetic inquisitive- 
ness of a down-Easter! We had not gone half a 
block before he startled me by snatching the reins 
and excitedly crying : “Stop ! stop ! What, 0 my 
prophetic soul, what is that I see yonder?” 

“Why, that’s nothing but a newspaper sign ; 
The Bradford County Telegraph is printed there.” 

“What ! A newspaper published away down 
South ? You don’t say so! Well, well, well! I 
never dreamed of such a thing. Hallup just a mo- 


55 


A Story of the South. 

ment ; let me make a note of it. I will surely 
write my family and friends North this fact by the 
very next mail. The South is improving amazingly 
since we freed the poor, abused, down-trodden col- 
ored population from brutal slavery.” 

It must be confessed a sucker was expected, 
from the prior correspondence, but not quite so soft 
a thing as this ! I gazed at him, lost for one for- 
getful moment in stupid astonishment. But the 
next moment, remembering the strictest sect abo- 
lition school in which he had been drug up, I re- 
covered ; and, swallowing a risibilistic spasm, drove 
on — resigned, submissive, meek to any fate. 

It happened we next came opposite the town 
school just as the bell rang and a hundred or more 
pupils of all degrees and sizes, but all white , were 
entering the building. 

“Hold a minute! Stop! What does all that 
mean? What are they going to do there?” 

“That is our town school,” with solemn com- 
posure. 

“School! School, did you say? You mean to 
tell me the native crackers away down here have 
such a thing as a school ! And are they really be- 
ginning to learn to read and write and spell? 
Well, this tops anything! I must make a note 
and write to hum about it. How surprised they 
will be to learn that there are actually newspapers 
and schools away down here where the ignorant, 
diabolical slave-owners used to live ! But hold on ! 
Where are the poor dear negro children ? I do not 
see a single one among all those children. What 
a disgraceful sin and shame it is that the old 
Southern prejudice is allowed to keep the black 


Lorna Carswell. 


56 

child, simply on account of color, ont of their 
white schools! Why, np North, as a matter of 
course, they all go together in the same schools. 
Will the South never learn humanity, and the so- 
cial as well as political rights of the colored 
brother ?” 

I could have shown him negro schools, and could 
have told him the vast sums of money the Southern 
States had taxed themselves, and were still taxing 
our white people, to give schools to the non-taxpay- 
ing negroes ; but I was silent. He made 
me utterly tired. I was on the point of 
turning back, putting up the team, and 
shipping him to some other parts more 
congenial to his ideas and tastes; but my curios- 
ity was excited, and we drove on. Being an aes- 
thetician, I longed to get him out in the country 
where other things were green. 

As we were passing a dwelling, unfortunately, 
some giddy, thoughtless girl was skilfully playing 
some beautiful airy-fairy waltz on a rich, 
Inellow-toned piano. That soft downy-pillow 
zephyr floated the billowy polu-phlois-boio-tha- 
lassas rhythmic cadences along and his ear caught 
the dreamful melody on the fly. He wildly 
snatched the lines, stopped short the swiftly-speed- 
ing steed, gazed one tense moment speechless, 
threw his eyes to the canops of hewing, and — 
fainted. 

The evidence had proven too rapidly cumu- 
lative. His life time beliefs were toppling and 
crashing and falling and smashing so recklessly, 
that he was broken, wrenched asunder and over- 
whelmed. All this caused by thirty minutes’ view 


A Story of the South. 57 

of Southern life and Southern institutions — a 
newspaper, a school, a piano ! 

Tenderly holding him in my arms, a very flat 
flask of Florida aqua vitse was drawn from my in- 
side coat pocket. It had been filled from one of 
the many fountains of perpetual youth left by old 
Ponce de Leon scattered round in Florida. Hold- 
ing his nose till he opened his mouth, I drenched 
him good and well. 

He electrically recovered — looked exactly thirty 
years younger — and, now resigned to conviction, 
said in whispering, exhausted dramatic accents : 

“Tell me, oh tell me ! Did I really and truly 
hear a piano ? Such a thing as a piano away down 
here among these wild, rough barbarians ; — hardly 
possible to believe my own senses.” 

He looked dejected and disappointed, hut, sud- 
denly brightening, said: 

“Oh, ah, er-yes! I now see how it is! That 
house where we hear the piano must he one of my 
abolition people from the North you wrote of as 
having settled here. Of course, that explains it. 
Look at those lovely roses and trellised wild flower 
vines! Every appearance of that place indicates 
that people of taste and the higher education live 
there. Say, do any of the native Southern people 
here really have such things as books and pictures, 
periodicals, libraries, decent furniture and so forth 
in their houses ?” 

He was not enlightened. I did not answer. 
Ephraim is joined to his idol. Let him alone. 

His thoughts now were evidently of the said im- 
possible Legree and his two fictitious diabolical 
negro foremen. He had become a study for me. 


Lorna Carswell. 


58 

We drove on again. I tried my best now to get 
him out of town without striking up against any- 
thing else that might indicate civilization, but 
the first thing we struck was an old church, and it 
came near knocking him out of the buggy. 

“Will wonders never cease? That is surely a 
church built years and years ago. People down 
here actually built churches and worshipped 
God. Say, I must get out and look at it.” 

Meekly resigned to any kind of a spasm, I went 
with him into the church. 

“Well, that looks funny ! What is that back 
upper gallery for?” 

He was told it was for the slaves in ante-bellum 
days. 

“What ! Slaves permitted to go to church ! Now 
you are trying to jolly me. You are from the 
North yourself, and you don’t know what you are 
talking about. My people would never believe 
even if I wrote them such a thing.” 

Things had come to the crisis. I promptly ac- 
knowledged that I was Southern-born — my cradle 
rocked by slaves. 

“O-er, excuse me, sir; please attribute all I’ve 
said not to any intent to give offense, but to my 
ignorance, my raising. I thought all the while, 
you were, of course, from the North.” 

He bought the orange grove, specially reserved 
for him, and became a citizen among us, and a 
good one, too. Many a time since have he and I 
laughed in good fellowship over his former be- 
liefs and ideas regarding Southern character and 
life. 

On the negro or “race problem,” so-called, he 


59 


A Story of the South. 

rapidly turned so many psychological somersets, 
that it was a caution. It was funny to watch him 
skin the cat. He was not now working tooth and 
toe-nail for political majorities in the Congress of 
the United States — specially in the Senate — in the 
matter of new States of the common territory 
coming in slave or free. He had retired from the 
Constitution-smashing business. He was not in 
politics — not even for any federal or presidential 
appointments. The first skimmins patch he 
planted he set the seed cane stalks out in rows like 
you would nursery stock. He is now still among 
us — an all-round good fellow — and we are glad to 
have him. Will trace his case further later on. 

How if the abolition writers and speakers really 
made thousands North believe what they wrote and 
spoke, this illustration of a Yankee coming to 
Florida is no hyperbole. 


6o 


Lorna Carswell. 


CHAPTER X. 

SLAVE STATE LAWS PROTECTION OF NEGROES, BOND 

AND FREE — A PLANTATION DINNER. 

Now, my truth-loving reader, don’t get fright- 
ened and skip this chapter. The facts in it are 
interwoven with what has preceded and what will 
follow. Stick close with me and we will have a 
good dinner in the end, away back in 1859, with 
some real old-fashioned dough block beaten bis- 
cuit, cooked by Sukey and Merric. 

A recent newspaper had an item of news, dated 
Evansville, Indiana, January 28th, 1901, as fol- 
lows : 

“Cities and towns along the Ohio river have be- 
gun a crusade against the negroes. The entire 
trouble dates back to the lynching of the negroes 
at Rockport and Boonville, for the murder of the 
white barber, Simmons, at Rockport, last month. 
The Board of Safety of this city has ordered the 
police to arrest all strange negroes and bring them 
before the Police Judge. If they cannot give any 
reason for being here, they will be sentenced to the 
rock pile. It is estimated that there are two 
thousand colored men in the city who absolutely 
refuse to work. They spend their time in the low 
saloons and dives of the city, and live the best way 


6i 


A Story of the South. 

they can. On election day they are in the market 
for the highest bidder. Other towns in Indiana 
along the river are taking steps to drive the worst 
element of negroes away. In some towns no negro 
is permitted to remain. Vigilance committees 
have been appointed at Grand View, Enterprise, 
Tell City and Leavenworth. Since the decent 
trouble at Newberry many of the colored people 
have left that town.” 

Now, if such conditions prevail and keep spread- 
ing throughout the North and West, as the press of 
to-day clearly indicates, the old ex-slave owners of 
the South and their descendants, whose sympa- 
thies have always been with the poor, deluded, mis- 
guided freedmen, will have to take steps and form 
societies for the better protection of negroes in the 
North. Just think of the negro-killing scenes in 
New York and Ohio the past year ! Imagine what 
a state of affairs there would be if about all the 
negroes now in the Southern States should mi- 
grate and settle, or even attempt to settle, north of 
the old Mason and Dixon line ! 

The negro free, left to his own inclinations and 
devices, as a race, appears to be degenerating in 
morals, manners and industries in some sections. 
It was so in the Southern States so long as we were 
under carpetbag misrule and held there by negro 
votes. In Florida, as soon as this state of affairs 
was so reversed by help of the votes of Northern 
people who had become citizens and property-own- 
ers in the State, and the negro was practically 
eliminated as a potent factor in politics, his morals, 
manners and industry have improved. 

The solution of the so-called race problem is for 


62 


Lorna Carswell. 


our Northern white citizens of this American 
Union to simply acknowledge the glaring mistakes 
and blunders they have made and continue to 
make, regarding the political and social status of 
the negro race. They will eventually be compelled 
to eradicate all the poison and false notions in- 
stilled for years in the negro’s mind by the evils of 
reconstruction, attempted social equality, and their 
mixed race schools. 

They will be compelled to acknowledge the fact 
that color is not the only difference between white 
and black. That it is error to judge the entire 
black race by what a few exceptional individuals 
accomplish. 

The negro is here to stay. He is a good and 
necessary laborer in his sphere. We want him and 
need him to perform his part in the development of 
the resources and industries of our section of the 
common country. Every sober, industrious, law- 
abiding and successful negro in the South — what- 
ever his business or trade — that is decent and 
right, is respected by the Southern people. 

Whenever the demagogue politician is forced to 
let the negro alone, and let us alone, the problem 
will solve itself, and all elements of society will 
seek and naturally find their proper and natural 
places. Actually, the negro race, under the pro- 
tection and industrial system of slavery, was im- 
proving far more and faster than it has under free- 
dom. The South, fully understanding the negro, 
has known all the while what was and is really 
best to do for the peace and happiness, not only of 
ourselves, but of the freedmen also. Whenever the 
North will recognize this fact, and will co-operate 


63 


A Story of the South. 

with ns, the country at large will have brighter 
hopes for the future of both races. 

Had Lincoln lived and carried out his policy 
of reconstruction, or had Johnson’s similar policy 
been permitted by a fanatic Congress mad with 
power, we never would have had any race problem. 
Why, my venerable abolitionist of the past, do you 
not know that it is a fact that the black man and 
the white man in the South to-day work more side 
by side in the fields, workshops, factories, mills, 
lumber and mining industries, cotton gins, fruit 
groves, and all departments of manual labor, than 
the negro is permitted to do in the North? Yet 
there is not among us any such thing as social 
equality of the races that you preach and pretend 
to practice. The negro of to-day, because we do 
not invite or permit such social equality, really has 
more respect for us than he has for you. Learn 
these things as true, quit your arrogant foolish- 
ness, and be good. Then we can play marbles 
amicably in the same yard. There is really to- 
day less race prejudice in the South than in the 
North. Your social equality teachings, coupled 
with your mixed race schools, have been the prime 
causes of a large per cent, of the lynchings of 
negroes North and South. In slavery days and 
during the four years of war we nor you were 
obliged to lynch negroes. Such crimes were not 
then committed. 

But we started out in this chapter to give our 
Indiana friends some points in their difficulties 
with the negroes among them. Their Board of 
Safety and Vigilance Committees remind us of 
what we of the South were compelled to do in the 


64 


Lorna Carswell. 


way of Ku-Klux Klans and Vigilance Commit- 
tees during reconstruction and carpetbag days. 
About the best way that presents itself is to offer 
an epitome of our laws in slave States from 1823 
to 1859, for the protection and government of 
negroes, whatever the abolitionist of those days 
said to the contrary notwithstanding. So here 
goes : 

There were necessarily patrol laws for the sur- 
veillance of slaves found under suspicious circum- 
stances away from their masters’ premises without 
a pass. The patrol was selected by the Justice of 
the Peace of each Justice District, and served un- 
der a discreet and prudent commander. It was 
called out when deemed expedient, and regular re- 
turns and reports of its actions made to the desig- 
nated and proper legal authorities. Any abuse 
of an innocent slave was punished. The police 
duty of the patrol was to protect both black and 
white. 

Patrolling was a military service paid for by 
the county, and all its acts came under inquiries 
of grand juries. Law-breaking negroes Were not 
punished in those days with anything like the 
severity of penalties now imposed on them by the 
courts and juries of every State in the Union for 
the same offenses. Then it was in nearly all cases, 
except murder or high crime, nothing but the 
Whipping post. Now the same crimes make con- 
victs of from one to twenty years and sometimes 
for life. The more the abolition agitators stirred 
up the spirit of arson, insurrection and murder 
among the blacks against their owners, all the 
more stringent were the Southern States forced to 


A Story of the South. 65 

make their patrol police laws. This was specially 
the case among the border slave States and all 
seaport towns. 

Intermarrying of white with negro, mulatto or 
quadroon was forbidden under severe penalties. 
Any white who attempted to intermarry, or who 
lived in a state of adultery or fornication with any 
negro, mulatto or quadroon, or other colored fe- 
male, was subject to heavy penalties and dis- 
qualified from exercising or holding any office of 
profit or trust or serving as juror or witness. 

Any person or persons exciting or attempting 
to excite insurrection or revolt of slaves by writ- 
ings, speaking or otherwise, he, she, or they so 
offending shall, on conviction thereof, suffer death. 
Stealing slaves or enticing them to run away was 
severely punished. Employing servant or slave in 
labor on the Sabbath day was punished by fine 
and otherwise for each and every such offense. 

In the sale of estates for debt, all property, both 
personal and real, could be sold before the slave 
as personal could be sold, if owner so elected. 

Slaves were so protected that in case of any 
wanton causeless assault made against them they 
were authorized by law to act in self-defense. 
Cruel or unusual treatment of a slave by owner, 
overseer, employer, or any person entitled to the 
service of the slave, was punished by law severely. 

The branding of a slave in the hand, or maim- 
ing a slave, was not permitted, except when the 
slave was duly convicted of manslaughter or arson. 
And upon such conviction the punishment of so 
branding or burning in the hand was required 
to he done in open court, and nowhere else. So 


66 


Lorna Carswell. 


we see that when a bad slave, after being so con- 
victed and branded, escaped to Ohio or Canada, 
what a mighty tale of woe he would conjure up 
and pour into the ears of Abolition Societies, 
whose formation was to encourage and aid run- 
away slaves. And these would believe and pro- 
claim as gospel truth every word of this escaped 
convict. 

Keeping plantation or place in charge of slaves, 
with no white person there, was forbidden under 
penalty of law. When a slave was indicted for 
crime, and his master refused or failed to employ 
counsel in his defense, an attorney was appointed 
by the court to defend • the accused slave. The 
law specified the charge of the court and form of 
oath for a negro witness in any trial. 

The trial of a slave in the courts was under the 
same rules and regulations observed in the trial of 
white persons. There was a protection law in 
the interest of free negroes requiring those over 
twelve years of age to have a responsible guardian. 

A law, also, whereby, under the guidance and 
protection of the courts, a free negro, when he so 
desired, could make choice of a responsible master. 

There were cases where the free negro preferred 
to voluntarily become a slave, either for a term 
of years or for life. There was protection for 
them in slave States, and free States were open 
to them to go to at will ; but some rather chose the 
abundance of the fleshpots of Egypt, and all their 
needs and wants supplied by a master, than to buf- 
fet the world for a living on their own free will 
and judgment. 

So ends the law lecture. 


6J 


A Story of the South. 

We have strayed a long way from that old ante- 
bellum home and memory picture, and will have 
to hasten back to be in time for the dinner Mer- 
ric and her servants are preparing. 

Mrs. Carswell had given her all the keys and 
told her that Bishop Pierce was expected at din- 
ner, and possibly a dozen or so more laymen, 
Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Jemmy, and some of 
Shelton's and Lorna's school-mates. 

Merric was supreme authority in her domain, 
the big kitchen. Just listen at her now: 

“Here, you, Dennis ! Andrew ! Go fetch dem 
buckits o' water fum de spring 'fore I wears both 
on you out widder bresh broom ! Emma, you en 
Lila en Anna dress dem two tuckeys and eight 
chickens while I put dis ham ter bile. Lemme 
see ! Dere's steak ter brile, en wafers, waffles, aigs 
poached in butter, aigs hard, aigs saff, scramble, 
pickle aigs, cranberry pie, tater pie, punkin pie, 
rasberry dumplin’, apple pie. De pound cake, 
raisin cake en sponge cake en lightbread wuz all 
bake yistiddy. Two chicken is brile, two fry, 
two smuvver, two chicken pie. Sukey! you tek 
dat flour en lard en milk, mix de dough and ever- 
lastin' beat it on the block. Whay wuzzer ? 
Archerchoke pickles, cumber pickles, rind zerve, 
pear zerve, plum jelly. Gra' Marma, you look 
atter plenty sweet milk en cream en butter en 
fresh butter milk. Sot 'em in de spring to cool 
by dem milyuns. Muss keep plenty rasberry ter 
eat wid sugar en cream, too. Den der's butter- 
milk biscuits, pone bread, sweet taters, ash taters, 
okry, cabbage en slaw, sweet peas, mattices, snap 
beans, turnips, roasin-years, lettice wid bakin en 


68 


Lorna Carswell. 


aigs and vinegar and cumbers, green peppers and 
garden sass en yarbs — sumpun else — Marster, oh 
yes, dem two ducks whut’s got ready las’ night; 
Marster likes um roas’ en stuff wid chessnut. 
Here, Eaymon, hull dem chessnuts, en if yer eats 
any I’ll bus yo’ haid widder shovel ! Ben ! you, 
Ben ! Whay’s dat raskul Ben ? Mars J ulus done 
spile dat nigger en got ’im mighty biggerty. Mos’ 
think he white now. You Ben ! Fotch a turn er 
oak bark to bake wid, dis minnit! Ben! Lord 
save me, whay’s dat kinky-haid, good fer nuffin 
nigger gone?” 

Ben heard but was hid behind the chimney 
corner, hoping Merric would call someone else. 
Marma had seen him, and quietly said, “Dat 
scamp is scroochin’ round dat chimbly corner.” 
Before Ben could realize fully what was happen- 
ing, Merric had snatched up a brush broom, al- 
ways handy for whipping or sweeping, rushed 
upon him, seizing him by the arm near the shoul- 
der, unmercifully thrashed him till, as he danced 
and hollered, he seemed literally to smoke dust 
from all parts of his anatomy. 

“How, yer gwine do whutter told you? You 
black imp o’ Satan ! I’ll tek dat biggerty outer’n 
yer lazy bones. How go.” And Ben hurriedly 
went for that turn of oak bark, howling and 
sniffling with pain. 

I well remember on one occasion “Mars’ Julus” 
was so bad in that same kitchen and exasperated 
patient old Marma so, that she took the brush 
broom and thrashed him. He struck back at her, 
and when his mother learned how it was she 
thrashed him again. Then he wished he had let 
Marma finish the job. 


A Story of the South. 


69 


CHAPTER XI. 

MUSIC OF THE DOUGH BLOCK. 

You commenced the day industriously digging 
eel worm bait; went fishing on that same branch 
of water melon memory. Yon had Ben along, 
and yonr boy neighbor had his little ebony- 
faced Rastns. 

After fishing, building a mud dam, making 
corn stalk water wheels and watching them turn ; 
going in swimming, making bow and arrows and 
shooting tadpoles; climbing a tall dead tree with 
not a limb and robbing a woodpecker nest; going 
in swimming again, making corn stalk fiddles, 
running away over yonder and climbing that mul- 
berry tree by the big gully; then daringly swing- 
ing on a long single grape vine out over the deep 
gully and back again, landing on the brink, rest- 
ing awhile in luxurious abandonment under the 
great spread of shade of those mighty and grand 
old oaks nearby the gully; then going on the 
warpath away down along the muddy pools and 
seeing who could kill the most bullfrogs, regard- 
less of the inevitable consequences of stumped toe 
nails ; then sicking Ben and Rastus into a 
knock-down wool-pulling fight over a dispute 


70 


Lorna Carswell. 


about the frogs; then arming with sticks, the 
two on each side a rail fence, you hunt that fence 
a long distance in the hot sun and murder green 
and striped and rusty lizards and blue-back, oily- 
looking scorpions; then away a long half mile or 
more to the peach orchard and apple trees — you 
get up a bet who can eat the most. 

By this time the dinner horn blows, but you are 
too full already, so you go in swimming again. 
Then going to the blacksmith shop while no one 
is there, you take ax and hatchet and the cross- 
cut saw and go back to the branch hammock, la- 
boriously cut down a black gum, and, sweating, 
puffing and blowing, you saw off wheels for a 
wagon, cut young hickory for axles and coupling 
and tongue, and go back to the shop and work like 
beavers till nearly sundown boring those wheels 
and making that wagon, and ruining every jack- 
plane in the shop, only stopping three times to 
run down that long hill to the branch and go in 
swimming. During one of these trips you desper- 
ately fought a wasp’s nest, and only two of 
you got stung in the face, which swelled up like 
you had whole eggs in your mouths. During 
another of these swimming trips you crossed that 
old hillside May-pop place, and, dividing your 
forces, had a drawn battle, smashing the soft, 
mushy, ripe May-pops all over each other. 

But the wagon was completed, and making 
horses out of Ben and Rastus, you rode by turns 
in triumph to the house. Your friend and his 
Rastus scurried on to their home, a mile up the 
big red road, and you for the first time realize 
how tired and hungry you are. 


A Story of the South. 71 

By this time Sukey is beating dough at the big 
kitchen on a high block just outside the door. 
Ben hunches down on the ground, and you sit on 
your wagon nearby and watch Sukey. 

The quick regular strokes of the smooth hickory 
pestle in the hands of the strong, motherly-looking 
Sukey, with cheerful face and rounded arms, fasci- 
nate your hungry soul. She deftly turns the 
creamy white dough on the block without ceasing 
at all the rhythmic hump, vump, vamp, bimp, 
vamp, vump, hump, with occasional rat, tat, tat, 
tel, lei, lels, between the regular blows. And all ac- 
companied by a melody of song that lulls and 
soothes and renders forgotten even that wasp sting 
and swollen cheek. You long to eat the very 
words, they sound so sweetly buttery and biscuity, 
and you draw a pitiful childish sigh at thought 
of waiting for the light creamy brown biscuits you 
know that dough-block music foretells. 

Ben crouches nearer to you, and, when Sukey 
is not looking, eagerly whispers : 

“Mars Julus, why doan yer ax her? She mos* 
froo terrectly.” 

You mournfully shake your head and sorrow- 
fully gaze. 

In your child mind, good Sukey beating dough 
personifies all the comforts in life. She becomes 
the most important person on the plantation. 
You gaze at her in longing, respectful admiration, 
mingled with hungering awe. Her voice melody, 
with that dough block accompaniment, surpasses, 
in your estimation, any music ever heard — even 
the sweetest of Sis Lorny’s songs, that some- 
times bring your heart up in your throat and 


72 Lorna Carswell. 

make you want to hide away and deliciously cry 
all by yourself. 

As you wistfully gaze at Sukey beating dough, 
you dreamily forget marbles, tops, swings, kites, 
slings, birds* nests, bow and arrows, picture books, 
fishing, lizards, bull frogs, swimming, tadpoles, 
flutter mills, wasps. May-pops — even your new- 
made wagon, for just then Teln comes by and 
eagerly asks you to let her pull it, and, much to 
her astonishment, you let her take it and go rat- 
tling round the house, and without a word you sit 
on the ground by Ben and continue to dolefully 
watch Sukey. 

She knows well enough what you want, but 
sings and vimp, vamp, vump, bump, and tel el 
lels right on, pretending to be unconscious of your 
very presence. She wants you to ask for it, and 
eyes you askant and smiles to herself as she mer- 
rily beats the dough. 

“Hurrup, Mars Julus! Fse hongry ez pizen 
snaix.** 

You muster up indifferent courage, walk up 
close to her and begin : 

“Sukey, please gi ** 

“G’way fummere, boy ! Doan* pester me !** 

She says this so short and sharp and forbidding 
you almost jump back, and, with the tears welling 
up, resume the old dreamy, longing, forgetful 
pose. You feel hurt, and your child*s face and 
quivering lips must have shown it, for Sukey 
soon says, brightly and soothingly: 

“Cummere, honey boy ! Fse got sumpun fer yer. 
Did you ax me fer a piece o* dough? Bless yer 
little heart, honey. Dere, teck dat now and g’way 


A Story of the South. 73 

whay yer gwine.” And she hands yon a good 
liberal piece of that dongh. 

When she first so abruptly rebuffed you, Ben 
had despondently lain down, face to the ground, 
as if hope and life had fled ; but this happy turn 
in fortune electrified him, and you too, and you 
both hasten to a corner in the big kitchen fire- 
place, select a hot thin flat rock, blow off the ashes 
and dab on little thin pieces of the dough, and 
begin to eat together before the first lay-on is 
more than half done. 

You are now on your very best behavior. Al- 
though you are the son of Merric ? s master, yet 
you know her power in that kitchen, and you are 
most respectful and careful not to get in her way 
or disarrange her fire. She sees it all, but pre- 
tends not, and indulgently lets you go ahead 
cooking dough on the hot rock. 

Ben watches her in fear and trembling, the 
while he is eating the biggest part of the rock- 
baked biscuits. She sees Ben doing this, but nei- 
ther says nor does a thing to interfere — simply 
bottles up her wrath. 

When, however, she detects Ben hiding some 
pieces and, with his mouth full, asking for more 
at the same time, she pounces on him like a hawk 
on a chicken, trounces him up and thrashes him 
all the way out with that brush broom, saying not 
a word in explanation to Ben. 

“Dere now, honey, cook en eat yer dough in 
peace like a good little boy. Dat rascal Ben so 
greedy he eat all the worB up.” 

A few years back the writer was on a business 
trip to the capital of Florida — old-fashioned, red- 


74 Lorna Carswell. 

hilled, beautiful Tallahassee. It was late spring- 
time. Fragrance of blossoms and flowers — roses, 
roses, roses, yards full of roses, in most lavish 
and rare profusion. The sun sank low in the 
western horizon and dreamily disappeared over be- 
yond the hills in a vast glow of roses. The long 
twilight gradually deepened and shadowed. The 
soil, the country, the scenery — all were so much 
like the ante-bellum childhood home among the 
red hills of Georgia. 

A flood of memories, sweet and bitter waters 
mingled, swept along the backward tide of years. 
The past beckoned lovingly, caressingly, pathetic- 
ally, to childhood again. White and black were 
calling with outstretched loving arms from a 
great shadowy distance, beyond and from across 
a turbid, raging river of blood. The living and 
the dead, both white and black, were faintly, 
huskily calling, “Come back ! Come and be a chiid 
again as in the old days l” 

To complete the imagery, just then was heard 
the plantation music of a dough block — negro 
woman, melody and all — and once again we were 
asking Sukey for a piece of dough. 


A Story of the South. 


75 


CHAPTER XII. 

HARD TRIALS — TRIBULATIONS. 

Merric’s kitchen on Sundays was always visit- 
ed by a half-dozen or more extra women and girls 
from the quarters. TJiese volunteered their help 
and cheerfully obeyed her slightest wish. The 
extra fine dinner after the white family had 
eaten was one attraction for these volunteers, hut 
they naturally loved to so get together to jest and 
talk. The unrestrained hilarity did not inter- 
fere with the business of preparing dinner. Work, 
jest, laugh and fun went hand in hand together. 

In the midst of it all, Dennis rushed in with 
big eyes and excited face, stuttering and exclaim- 
ing: 

“Jeff, he-he-he done it! I-I nebher tech ’em. 
Swar ter Gawd ef dat nigger ai’ gwi’ kotch it 
ergin ! I seed ’im snakin’ long twill ’e got dar, 
den ’e scrooch down en’ teck ’e hat off 
dat kinky noggin en’ put ’em in dat ; 
den ’e run fer de barn ter hide, same ez skotch 
rairbitt, but ’e big foot kotch in Miss Teln swung, 
enne fall ker-hul-lub blam, er smashin’ ebber one. 
En’ when ’e seed me, he say, ‘You tell, I gwine 
kill yer!’ An’ den e’-e’-e’ ” 

“Tuck what , you little yaller debble ? Whut yer 


Lorna Carswell. 


76 

blabbin’ erbout all dis time?” was Merries greet- 
ing, as a hush of surprise and pained astonish- 
ment fell upon all present, old and young. 

“Yer all know dat ole speckle, judy-striped 
’tueky hen what missus saunt Granny fer ter sot 
down dar back; de ash hoppy in dat ole tater bank, 
an’-er-er ” 

“Sukey, retch me dat bresh broom! I ? ll mek 
dat brat say whut’s whut quickerin shake uvver 
sheep’s tail. Now, Mr. Gingy Bread •” 

“Aigs ! He tucken stole dem turriky aigs !” 
quickly cried the excited Dennis. 

At this old Marma groaned in sorrow and 
bowed her head to her knees. This thief, Jeff, 
was one of her grandchildren. All her counsels 
and pleadings with the erring one in the past 
proved of no avail. Several times, by appealing 
to her master and mistress, she had saved Jeff 
from deserved punishment. Leniency did no 
good. Then the overseer’s whipping for subse- 
quent thefts availed nothing. Now Jeff had 
sinned again. At this time he was a great, big, 
overgrown boy — almost a man. Lazy, trifling, al- 
ways behind in any work or task, a continual 
source of annoyance. 

Marma’s influence for good was great among old 
and young on the plantation, white and black. 
She was a sincerely good Christian woman, fully 
trusting in God and loving her mistress devotedly. 
Each child of the white family was dear to her 
and she dear to them. She had wept with her mis- 
tress in every grief and had rejoiced with her 
through every happiness for many years. 

Nothing was too good for Marma. Her tasks 


77 


A Story of the South. 

were light and easy in her old age^ and only snch 
as she wanted to do. The idea of the overseer’s 
lash ever touching Manna, and also a large propor- 
tion of the good servants of the place, was foreign 
to the thoughts of all. The whipping post was for 
only such cases as J etf . 

When Dennis had told his bad news and then 
hid away as if scared, Sukey excitedly said : 

“People, jess listen dat! De Lord hep. Whut 
fer he steal dem aigs beats me. He doan need ’em, 
he cai ? sell ’em, he cai’ do nutten widdem. Hit’s 
jess rale ornery spite an’ cussedness. De debble 
gwi’ knotch dat nigger sho, en’ sizzle en’ brile ’im 
brimstone seben time het. Ain’t I done tole yer 
all sumpen gwine hap’, some sorry or death or 
patterrollin’ count o’ some fool nigger ! A scrooch 
owell moan lass night in er tree close by de biggus, 
en’ de dawg howl an’ stretch on de groun’ lack 
measure grave. A hen crowed en’ nobody killed 
her. I dream lass week ’bout folks whut’s daid, 
enner seed a jack-o’-lantern way over yander whay 
us buried po’ Walter lass year.” 

As Sukey had proceeded she had changed from 
excitement to regular ghost-story, grave-yard tones 
and manner. All were silent and gloomy for 
several minutes, quietly continuing the cooking of 
dinner. 

The negro character is very emotional. If it 
is joy, then a noise must be made in singing, danc- 
ing or hollering. If it is religion, noise of some 
kind, as shouting, clapping hands or vociferating 
an experience, must demonstrate it. Even sorrow, 
grief or superstition must find voice some way, 
generally in some moaning, wailing religious song. 


Lorna Carswell. 


78 

Sukey was gifted in song, whether merry or sad, 
and now she struck the chord expressive of the 
present feelings by commencing in tremulous, wail- 
ing tones. All joined the chorus of “0, glory, 
hallylooyah” 


“I wish Tde er died when I wuz young , 

0, glory , hallylooyah ; 

I would not er had dis race fer to run, 

0, glory, hallylooyah. 

Tribulations ! . .Hard trials, tribulations. 

If you git dar befo’ I do, 

0, glory, hallylooyah. 

You kin tell ’em Tse a-comin *, too, 

0, glory, hallylooyah. 

My ole mistis said ’ twuz best 
To live and die a Babitest, 

0, glory, hallylooyah, 

I met debble roun * er stump. 

Gin ’ im er kick at ebery jump. 

Sister Mary ! Hard trials. 

Tribulations, hard trials ; 

Gwine ter git ter hebben bornbye .” 

When all started out with the song, each one vied 
with the other in making it inexpressibly sad. 
But very soon the melody began to rouse their 
drooping spirits. Before the dirge was half 
through there was such a volume of music, sway- 
ing of bodies, clapping of hands, and even dancing 
over the floor in time, that Jeff was forgotten, 
trials and tribulations were forgotten, and young 
and old, except Marma, wound up in peal after 


A Story of the South. 79 

peal of merry laughter. Ben brought the house 
down by piping out: 

“0 dat water milyun, 0 dat water milyun; 

Gwine ter git ter hebben bombye!” 

emphasizing his feelings by comic pantomime and 
winding up with a regular double-shuffle break- 
down clog dance* in exact time and fit with the 
words. 

Just as this roaring farce ended amid un- 
bounded hilarity, carriages, buggies and horse- 
back riders were seen coming from church. Mer- 
ric at once commanded silent and prompt atten- 
tion. 

“Ebry huff o’ yer stop dat jawin’ en’ shut up 
yer moufs ! Doan’ stan’ like a pack 0’ goose fools. 
Here, Dennis, hike to de spring en’ git jnarser 
cole water rite outer de bile. Bess on yer teck 
dem cottin kyards, gwout dar hine de kitchen en’ 
comb dem kinks on yer loon noggins. Teck long 
dat piggin o’ water an’ lye soap en’ rinse yer 
black moon faces en’ paws, den clap on clean 
apuns an’ go sot dat dinner table inner jiffy. 
Sherr roun’ mighty quick en’ soople ! Lord ! ef 
dar ain’t dat little huzzy Amy struttin’ en’ put- 
tin’ on arrs, same’s ef t’ink hersel’ white; singin’ 
per slams lack er had ’ligion, kaze she been 
chutch wid mussus, enner bet her haid full 0’ 
nits rite now ! Looker how she sidles long liellin 
up dat ambrill plikin’ her wuzzer born rysticrat.” 

Merric saw with pride that a good crowd of 
visitors had come to enjoy her ample dinner. 
They were of both high and low degree in the 
social scale. 


So 


Lorna Carswell. 


“Clarr ter Gawd, what missus brung dem ole 
tackey Unker Jimmy an’ Aunt Jemmy ter mux wid 
all dat squality, beats me ! Gwi’ sot em rite down 
same table wid de bishup en’ all dem pooty gen- 
lems en’ leddies o’ Mars Shelton an’ Miss Lorny. 
An* Miss Lorny, bress her heart, jess ez plite an’ 
sweet to dem ole white trash ez ter dat spruce 
broadcloth Mars George what Mars Shelton fetch 
dong. Dat buckra been sparkin’ ’round here ’fore 
now. Cai’ fool dis nigger ! He needen’ ’spec’ ter 
git our Miss Lomy ’ceppen he got lots o’ niggers 
ter wait on ’er. She so pooty en’ good dat she 
natu’lly born fer niggers to wait on en’ wuck fer 
her. En’ dey natu’lly lub ter do it, too.” 


A Story of the South. 


81 


CHAPTER XIII. 

YOUTH AND HOPE, LIFE AND LOVE. 

Just as Merric hurried from the door hack into 
the kitchen, the yard and shady grove were bright- 
ened by a living, moving scene. Shelton and his 
schoolmate, George Woolridge, together with Lorna 
and her two friends, Lula Woolridge and Nina 
Howell, all pictures of youth and brightness, 
came across the yard in merry conversation to 
Marma's dairy, and made that old soul perfectly 
happy in supplying their polite pleadings for cool 
drinks of milk. Each one was richly though mod- 
estly dressed in the best mode of the day. Brim- 
ful of life and joy and hope, the young people 
drank mock-heroic toasts. 

Shelton raised his glass, and, glancing at the 
sprightly blue-eyed Nina, said : 

“Here's confusion worse confounded to Cesar’s 
bridge, Horace's head-splitting odes, Euclid's 
mazes and Homer's horrors; and perpetual sum- 
mer vacations with Sis Loma's lovely friends at 
Rural Shades." 

Nina quickly followed, looking witheringly be- 
witching at Shelton: 

“Go to the ant, thou sluggard! You'll be un- 
wept, unhonored, unsung. Here's deserved obliv- 


82 


Lorna Carswell. 


ion to self-ease, and honors, and fame to the vigi- 
lant, the active, the brave.” 

“A-hem !” said George, in mock gravity. 
“Friends, Romans, countrymen, hear me! 

“The earth was sad , the garden was a wild , 

And man , the hermit , sighed , till woman smiled 

Deliberately he drained his glass, all the while 
looking over its rim pathetically, imploringly ludi- 
crous, at the now smiling Lorna. 

Lula, gentle, lovable Lula, the pride of her class 
in elocution, now enthused to the occasion, raised 
a fair rounded arm and beautiful hand for silence, 
and, in a voice tender as a dream of fair women, 
yet clear as a golden bell, repeated : 

“Let the storms of adversity gather around her ! 
While man lies crushed and withered by the open- 
ing blast, woman is ever — 

“A beacon beaming from afar , 

The weary wanderer's guiding star ; 

A balm to soothe the heart's unrest, 

A rainbow on the storm cloud's crest ; 

A ray of light in sorrow's hour, 

'Neath wint'ry skies a blooming flower; 

An olive branch upon the wave 
That bears us onward to the grave; 

A priceless gem of worth untold , 

Enshrined within the heart's deep fold." 

The fair speaker looked so lovingly at Lorna 
that the latter impulsively threw her arms around 
her and kissed her. 

It was now Lorna’s toast. She caught a devoted 


A Story of the South. 83 

look from the delighted old Marma, and said, with 
deep feeling in every word: 

“Here’s to onr good, dear old Marma! My 
childhood’s nurse, my ever loved and sympathetic 
friend — always faithful — always true.” 

This unexpected turn in the tide of exuberant 
spirits of the young people so overcame Marma 
that, forgetting all restraint, she gave a cry and 
clasped her young mistress in her arms, kissed her 
hands, her hair, her cheek, rocked her back and 
forth in her arms, sobbingly calling her her own 
darlin’ honey chile. 

And Lorna shed a tear as she in turn caressed 
the withered face, twined her young arms around 
the old slave’s neck, and brokenly called her her 
dear old mammy. 

Oh, Lorna dear ! No one knew you but to love 
you. How’ could George Woolridge or any one 
else, help loving you ! 

A hushed, dewy-eyed sympathy fell upon the 
young living ideals of youth and love, life and 
hope, as they all then crossed the yard under the 
shade of the trees, and returned to the house for 
dinner. 

George remained a little behind the others, 
thanking Marma for the drinks, and, under pre- 
tense of shaking hands with Lorna’s old black 
mammy, he adroitly left a dollar in her hand. 
George was wise in his day and generation. 

Marma, pleased with his gift and the sentiment 
and manner of its giving, watched his handsome 
form as he caught up with the others in time to 
devotedly conduct Lorna up the steps. 


84 


Lorna Carswell. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE OLD SLAVE'S SOLILOQUY. 

As Marina rearranged the treasures of her dairy 
she talked to herself. 

“Humph ! Dat young Mass George peer lack 
berry nice genlum. He folks is berry scratic, too. 
Dey lib pompous en' kin hole er candle long side 
de bess in de kentry. De Woollidges zide up in 
yether parts widder big plantation enner mighty 
fine biggus ter Atterlanty. Dey muss be scrum- 
sius an' some punkins, kaze marser and missus 
'low Mars Shelton 'vite 'em here. An' dat han’- 
som buckra is sho newsen ter niggers en' treat 'em 
'mazin' well. Good marster mek good husban' 

an' Miss Lorny . Now listen dis ole black 

mammy fool ! Dere’s scusin' fer young fool, but 
ole fool is fool, tubbesho. Ma chile gwine free 
mo’ year ter collidge yit, en’ eben den she skacely 
be er grown 'oman. Dunno how many niggers de 
Woollidges owns, but I done tole de string dat 
dere's white folks dat's gemmen en' leddies whed- 
der dey owns niggers er not; en’ dem goose scorn 
de idee en’ say ole age mek me lose ma sense. Fud- 
dermo', dey say dey woulden Tong ter no white 


A Story of the South. 85 

man whut’s so triflin’ he ain’t got narry nigger. 
Fo’ dat dey druther eben be one dem onspecterbul 
free niggers. 

“De good Lord sabe me fnm dat sitterwation ! 
Whutter gwi’ do wuzzer free ’en batter root hog- 
gerdie tryin’ ter tote ma own skillet? Who gwine 
look atter en’ keer fer ole Marma den? Hit 
woulden’ be ’specterbul. Den, ergin, ef all de free 
niggers is sich speslums as I’se seed, den mos’ on 
’em would be better orf ef de law mek dem as wo’ 
wuck en’ mek decent livin’ own a mahster. I neb- 
ber knowed skacely any chillun o’ free niggers 
grow up wuff anysing. ’Jority on ’em wo’ wuck 
’cep dey daddy an’ mammy half killem. Dey’s 
natu’lly no ’count, or udderways dey ain’t got 
proper sense ter manage en’ mek er good libbin’. 
Kaze dey free, mos’ on ’em ’sume dey doan’ hatter 
wuck. Dey gen’rally got ter be bossed one way 
or nudder, nohow yer kin fix it. Idle haids is 
debble wuck shop, en’ de mo’ idle niggers dere is, 
de mo’ wuck shops de debble runnin’. 

“Humph ! Dat furrin pedler come froo lass 
year tole some mighty whoppin’ tales. Sed ’e 
’long ter Mass Chusit. Dat man Chusit better 
kep ’im home whay ’e ’long, stidder sauntin’ ’em 
down here ’sturbin’ peaceble, ’tented folks. Er 
notice he diden’ jaw whay massa or any white folks 
wuz. Jeff wuz bad nuff ferninst he come larrovin’ 
en’ meddlin’. Jeff runaway en’ wuz foun’ way off 
wid dat furrin pedler. De patterollers whoop ’em 
both, an’ I’d er like terseed dat sarpen squirm. 
I larn since he wuz ’tisin’ J eff to go sommers way 
’cross er ribber ter de abolish. I know one fool 
nigger dat listen ter dere blatherin’, and run away 


86 


Lorna Carswell. 


’cross dat ribber. He nebber stay long, kaze de 
white folks dere run him outer der state, en’ ’e wnz 
proud ter git back, teck his whippin’ en go ter 
wuck ergin widder marster. 

“Dat furriner wuz snaix tryin’ ter pizen niggers. 
He ’low whay ’e come fum de colored leddies en’ 
gemmen same en’ jess good as de whites, an’ weuns 
orter be dat way, too ; dat us wuz good as Marsa 
en’ Missus or Mars Shelton an Miss Lorny! Dat 
mek me mad, kaze I knowed it wuzzer lie. Atter 
dat I had no mo’ ’pect furrim. En’ when ’e call ’im 
Mister J eff erson ! clare ter goodness, all on us 
laugh scornin’ en’ left de cabin. Po, ’hided Jeff 
gwine fum bad ter wuss ebber sence. De Lord 
only knows what all pizen ’e stuff ’im wid.” 

Old Marma’s body has long since turned to 
dust and her soul gone to God, but her race equal- 
ity question still appears to worry some people, 
grapple some intellects and shorten some lives. 

Some theoretic would be philosophers still in- 
sist that a square peg will fit a round hole. 

Free negroes in Marma’s days appeared objects 
of pity to the eyes of careless, well kept slaves. 

The Abolition Society agent in guise of peddler 
attempting to excite discontent, false ideas, insur- 
rection, incendiarism and murder in the minds 
of slaves, was abhorrent to Marma’s class. 

The negro to-day is more in need of industrial 
and moral training than of ballots and classics 
and untenable ideas of social equality. 

Because a few of the race of mixed blood achieve 
eminence in church and State, the latter day civil 
and social race-equality-irrepressible-conflictors 
lose sight of the condition of the masses. 


t 


A Story of the South. Sj 

This clamor may be individual notoriety seeking 
more than genuine love or sympathy. 

The real condition of the negro race in the 
South to-day regardless of all this polemic display ? 

He is everywhere evident on and in railroad 
trains, hotels, farms, shops 2 mills, factories, or 
employed as barber, hackman, miner, teacher of 
colored schools, and is an important factor in 
nearly every industry of the country. In many 
cases promoter and owner of his business. In 
none of these is he molested or made afraid. 

In every community, if industrious, a compe- 
tency for himself and family is certain. 

He is largely evident also in criminal courts, 
jails and convict camps. He figures in the press 
often as victim of lynch-law for nameless crimes. 

A large per cent, is floating class of laborers 
and loafers. Some with alias for nearly every 
change of locality. This class own no taxable 
property, nor do they care to own any. Their 
legend is “let us eat and drink to-day for to-mor- 
row we die ” — vivere dum vivimus. They care 
nothing for the ballot unless it be to sell a vote to 
highest bidder. 

All classes, the industrious and civil as well as 
the idle and criminal, retain much of the sans-souci 
hilarity of the ante-bellum slave. In social re- 
lations among themselves very little in life is 
held sacred. 

Gather a number as laborers at fair wages and 
they do excellent work in good humor. They, are 
not prone to strikes. If one be detected with 
several aliases on as many pay rolls for same day’s 


88 Lorna Carswell. 

labor, he only laughs as though it was hut a slick 
joke. 

Give one a pension and he won’t work until the 
quarterly payment is blown in. 

You have a press of work and go out to-day and 
engage fifty to come and work to-morrow. Each 
one will smilingly promise to come without fail. 
If ten come you are lucky. 

Yet we manage, white and black, to get on quite 
nicely, thank you, and in general good humor. We 
are surprised that somebody somewhere is ever- 
lastingly discovering that we are entitled to a very 
serious and grave race problem. 

We and our colored citizens who labor are pros- 
perous and happy. The clamor of the non-resident 
political salvation army preaching civil and social 
equality of black and white in the South does not 
disturb our serenity. 


A Story of the South. 


89 


CHAPTER XV. 

A PLANTATION - CORN-SHUCKING. 

The summer days at Rural Shades passed 
smoothly and happily on. There was one incident 
while Shelton and his friend George Woolridge 
were there that indicated a strong trait of the 
Southern slave owner. 

Shelton had sent Raymon on his horse to the 
town after mail. When he should have returned 
an hour or two passed, and yet Raymon was miss- 
ing. Finally the horse came back riderless. Un- 
easy about some accident to the boy, Shelton and 
George mounted horses and galloped off to investi- 
gate. They had gone hardly two miles when they 
met Raymon walking back, his face bruised and 
his clothes torn. He said that two strange white 
men had stopped him in the road, pretending to 
he patrols, and had pulled him off the horse and 
cuffed him because he could give no pass, although 
he showed them the Carswell mail he was carrying 
home. 

No greater insult could he given the slave owner 
than for any one to ill treat his slave without just 
cause. 

Indignant and burning with an eager desire to 


90 


Lorna Carswell. 


avenge the outrage, the two young men learned 
of Baymon a description of the two impostors and 
the road they were traveling. Then, cutting a 
good hickory cane each and putting spurs to their 
horses, they gave pursuit. They had no other 
weapon, nor hesitated a moment on that account. 
Beaching the top of a hill, they saw the two in 
the valley below, about to ascend the next hill on 
their horses. 

Utterly regardless of any danger of a stumbling 
horse, Shelton and George rode like a whirlwind 
down the steep, long hill, and, having the best 
horses, overtook the two strangers before they 
were more than half way up the next hill. 

“Halt there, you infernal scoundrels !” shouted 
Shelton. “Why did you beat my servant?” 

As the two strangers saw the raised hickory 
sticks and excited determination of the young men, 
they spurred their horses, and one of them turned 
in his saddle and fired a pistol at the two pur- 
suers. Begardless of this, and knowing he could 
not reload, Baymon’s avengers closed on them 
and furiously belabored them with the sticks. 
Fortunately the other one had no pistol. After 
striking them many times and knocking their hats 
and pistol to the ground, our warriors let them 
escape and quietly rode back home. 

How the crops of com and cotton had received 
the last plowing and were “laid by.” The wheat 
fields, ripe for harvest, were cut with hand cradles. 
Some six to eight stalwart negro men, experts at 
the work, swung with song and halloo the sharp, 
flashing cradle blades in diminishing circle round 
and round the golden brown waving grain. The 


A Story of the South. 91 

cradlers were followed by handlers, and these in 
turn, by shockers. 

Soon the corn fields browned and ribboned, and. 
fodder pulling caused many exciting races be- 
tween the dusky champion laborers. “The pas- 
tures are clothed with flocks ; the valleys also are 
covered over with corn; they shout for joy; they 
also sing.” 

Following the fodder pulling, the cotton boles 
are opening, and soon the broad fields are mingled 
green and brown and white. 

Men, women, boys, girls, in talkative, jesting 
gangs, dot the whitening rows. Each one accord- 
ing to his ability and condition, and the state of 
the cotton as to how much is open, is expected to 
pick a reasonable number of pounds every favor- 
able day’s picking. 

The overseer weighs each one’s separate basket 
of cotton immediately at the close of the half 
day’s work, noon and night. If the weighing 
shows laziness and trifling idleness and careless 
work on the part of any one, he is warned to do bet- 
ter next half day. If he still persisted in careless 
neglect of an easy task, he was promptly whipped 
by the overseer. The idle one was jeered and 
laughed at by the others as getting what he de- 
served. It was, with hardly ever an exception, 
only the thoughtless young slaves that brought 
these punishments upon themselves. 

Peace and plenty reigned. Comfortably housed, 
clothed and fed; family cared for in sickness or 
health; no thought of to-morrow, the average 
nine- tenths of negro slaves were happy, jolly and 
content. 


92 


Lorna Carswell. 


If crops failed and markets proved disastrous, 
all the worry and fretting, financiering and plan- 
ning, fell upon the master. The negro knew he 
would be housed, clothed, fed, doctored, just the 
same. 

Of all the political or humane factors in New 
England or elsewhere laboring so desperately for 
his freedom and higher rights, and losing sleep 
over and deploring his imaginary abject depraved 
condition as a human chattel, he knew little or 
nothing, and thought less. 

Being under almost complete and wholesome 
control, the many sins and crimes of uncontrolled 
idleness and its inevitable vices were almost un- 
known. 

The contentious, baneful influence of politics 
was not dreamed of. 

There was rivalry between the slaves of dif- 
ferent adjoining plantations, as well as between 
the masters, as to who could make the biggest 
crops. The negro assumed great pride when “our 
crap” was “better’n yourn.” 

It is now about the first of October at Rural 
Shades. Wagon load after wagon load of corn in 
the yellow-brown shuck has been dumped in an 
immense, long half -moon circle in front of the big 
crib door. When a thousand or fifteen hundred 
bushels are so piled, a big corn-shucking frolic is 
going to happen. The gangs of corn-pullers in 
the fields and the teamsters, all in good humor, 
hurry the work. They know what is coming, and 
look forward to it like the lover of or gambler in 
fine horses looks to the exciting races. 

Every man and woman, boy and girl, pickaninny 


A Story of the South. 93 

and all, watches that increasing pile of corn, and 
smiles as he passes it to see it grow bigger. 

Finally Willis is sent horseback to three of the 
neighboring plantations to request the owners to 
permit as many of their slaves who might volun- 
tarily desire to do so to come to a corn-shucking 
the following night. 

Willis was now in a fair way of marrying his 
sumptuous Loo, and living with his heart’s delight 
in the new cabin under the same big blasted sweet 
gum tree. As he rode away, strong as Hercules, 
he felt light as a feather. Loo’s people, and Loo 
herself, would come to the corn-shucking. 

Mose was instructed to barbecue plenty of shote, 
kid and beef for the occasion, and Merrie was fur- 
nished with plenty of extra helping cooks to pre- 
pare all the bread, pumpkin pies, potatoes, vegeta- 
bles and coffee for the expected crowd at home and 
from abroad. 

Some unusually large pumpkins had been 
hauled in with the com from a rich low ground 
valley field. Julian and Ben, secretly between 
themselves, were very much interested in those 
pumpkins. The noon of the day, when all hands 
were at dinner, they managed, unseen, to lug the 
biggest round pumpkin into the carriage house. 
Nearly the whole of that afternoon they hid way 
back in there, with doors shut, seriously, quietly, 
industriously working on that pumpkin with a bar- 
low knife. 

Julian remarked that he would ask his ma for a 
candle. 

“No, sar! Mars Julus. Doan’ nebber thinker 
sicher axin’, kaze dey smeller rat en’ spile eber- 


94 


Lorna Carswell. 


sing. Jess slip unberknownst lack en’ teck one 
fum Mars Shelton or Miss Lorny room, which- 
sumdever dere’s nobody in. Poker np yer slebe 
and sonter out wid yer han’ in yer pocket, disser- 
way; see? Den walk squar en’ open rite back, 
whooslin’ en’ callin’ de dawgs, Fido en’ Shag, 
plikin (playing like) yer diden’ know er candle 
ebber bawned in de work. Doan’ fergit dat fine 
red papy. Slipper in top yer hat, disserway, see? 
En matches — lack ter fergittem. I’se got de raw- 
sum ter stuck de papy on. Say, Mars Julus, 
wonner whedder debble got toof s ?” 

“Yes, ’cause ma read about the devil like a roar- 
in’ lion, and you know lions has great big 
tooths ?” 

“I’ll fix ’em, den — eyes, toofs, mouf, nose, en’ 
all. Say ! but dishere punkin got lots o’ innards, 
ain’t er ?” 

We leave the two conspirators to their diabolical 
deeds. 

The glorious October night is at hand. The big 
kitchen is all bustle and hilarity. Down in the 
grove Mose, with his helpers, is working around a 
pit of glowing oak coals, turning the barbecue and 
mopping it with butter, pepper, vinegar and salt. 
It is slowly browning crisp and fine. The deli- 
cious odor fills the air. Many a mouth waters 
and lips smack and ebony faces wreathe in smiles 
from ear to ear in anticipation. No one eats 
any supper at usual time — white or black — the 
feast comes about ten o’clock, after the shucking. 

Mose is a power now, and looks seriously wise 
as Solomon and mysterious as the Fates. He 
fully believes that should the world lose him the 


95 


A Story of the South. 

loss would be irreparable, and there never could 
be another barbecue. His black satellites obey 
obsequiously his every word and motion and seri- 
ously watch his every movement and face expres- 
sion in silent awe. Unlike the noisy kitchen, the 
barbecue is solemnly wise and silent, as the great 
mystery gradually solves into morsels fit for 
kings and all the great of earth. 

Elevated fire-stands are built down yonder about 
the great com pile, with plenty of fat lightwood 
ready to touch off at the proper time. 

Say, hold on there ! Stop that noise ! Every one 
is thrilled, and some dance in pantomime; others 
run for the fire-stands like black streaks through 
the night, and all bubble over in silent glee as 
they listen. 

In the still night air there is heard away over 
the hills a deep-toned melody of many voices in 
concert, coming nearer all the while. From the 
opposite direction a similar musical sound is heard, 
and from still a third direction, a wild corn song 
by many voices in perfect unison thrills like a 
military band leading on to battle. In the three 
oncoming troops women voices mingle with men 
voices. Negroes, in their perfectly natural, unre- 
strained manner and full voices, in singing beat 
the world. 

“Dey’s cornin’, marster!” shouted Willis, turn- 
ing a hand spring, then jumping in the air and 
knocking his heels together three times before hit- 
ting the ground, then running off a little distance, 
gave a prolonged whoop> that made the stars blink 
and tremble. 

At this everybody, big, little, old and young. 


9 6 


Lorna Carswell. 


rushed out into the yard from everywhere, laugh- 
ing, singing, hollering, dancing, to welcome the 
coming bands. A big torch fire lighted the yard 
and cast glares and shadows here, there and every- 
where. The white family stood on the back porch 
enjoying the scene. 

Meantime, as the three oncoming troops drew 
nearer, they each sang louder in rivalry, bones 
and banjoes clapping and twanging with their 
stentorian voices. When they all burst into the 
yard simultaneously, singing their loudest, there 
never was a more wildly frantic pandemonium 
of exuberant spirits. Women snatch other 
women in their arms and hysterically laughed and 
cried. Boys and girls danced in a mad whirl. 
Pickaninnies rollicked and rolled and pipingly 
screamed. Strong men singly seized other strong 
men, hoisted them astride their shoulders, and, 
like double giants, marched round and round, the 
top man grotesquely gesticulating, orating and 
singing like a double- jointed steam fog horn in 
a storm. Some one, above all the din, cried out, 
“Corn pile !” and all went pell mell to the big crib, 
where the torches now lighted the scene. 

By common consent, Willis was named leader 
of one side, and Jake, his former rival for “dat 
lubly Cindy gal,” was chosen leader of the oppo- 
sition. Willis was cured of his “quile” so far as 
Cindy was concerned, and now faithfully loved 
only the sumptuous Loo. He could not help, 
however, wanting a little of the worst to beat Jake 
in some way, and now was his opportunity, and 
both Cindy and Loo were present. 

Jake was older than Willis, heavier, but not so 


97 


A Story of the South. 

tall, and generally got there by main force and 
boisterous bullyragging. He had a voice like a bull 
of Bashan, and never stinted its volume on occa- 
sion. 

Our dude Hansom, as master of ceremonies, 
now picked up a chip, and, spitting on. one side 
of it, sung out to the two captains : 

“Will yer fling up fer fuss chice or rassul fer 
it?” 

This instantly created a sensation. There were 
rapid cries in all keys of, “Fling up ! flapperup ! 
rassul! rassul! flopperup ! flip up ! Bet on Jake! 
flame rup ! Bet on Willis, pitcherup ; rasselup ! 
flummerup ! flangerrassul ! flimmerupperflammer- 
rassulerup !” confusing in the extreme to Hansom, 
who now jumped on top the corn pile, and, making 
a royal wave, hollered authoritatively: 

“Silunce, niggers! De empire ’cides de Aim 
flamflum flip flappers has it, an Fse gwine flop- 
perup ! Wet or dry, Jake?” 

“Dry!” promptly roared Jake, and the dry side 
of the chip was upward when it hit the ground. 
This was done three times, and Jake guessing 
wrong two out of three, the first choice fell to 
Willis. 

Hansom then carefully measured the corn pile, 
stuck up a flag at the dividing center spot, and 
announced that each one would take his place on 
either side as chosen. All the men and women, 
boys and girls were soon ranged on rival sides, 
with just elbow room for each one. They were on 
the outside of the corn pile and facing the open 
space before the crib door, so that the ears of corn 


Lorna Carswell. 


98 

would be thrown to this space and the shucks 
pushed behind the workers. 

Hansom now proclaimed, “Big pig or little pig, 
root hog or die ! Go it, boots ?” and the battle 
commenced in dead earnest. 

With a running start and one leap, Willis 
landed on top his half the pile, giving a war 
whoop that electrified his cohorts. The shucks 
tore and rattled and the ears of corn rained zip- 
zipping through the air. 

Jake meantime had leaped up on his side, roared 
like a wounded lion, threw his hat in unknown 
space in one direction, snatched off his coat and let 
? er go in another, seized two pairs of bones from 
his pockets — a pair in each hand — and danced 
up and down the pile to the stirring rattle of 
the bones, singing like a giant maniac, enthusing 
his army with frantic zeal. 

It was strictly against the code of corn-shuck- 
ing for any one to throw an ear so as to hit either 
captain, no matter how much or quickly he moved 
from place to place exhorting his troops. 

All are working like mad, rapidly, skilfully, and 
a continual hailstorm of com ears zips across the 
pile into the space before the crib door. 

All at once Willis led off with a prolonged “O-o- 
o-o-row ray!” and instantly, like one voice, all 
on his side sung the chorus, “Row, row, ray!” 
Then Willis, like one possessed, improvised rapid- 
ly, each line he uttered being followed by that 
united “Row, row, ray !” Some of the hand claps 
were like pistol shots. 

As well as can be remembered, his leading was 
about as follows: 


99 


A Story of the South. 

“De meat in de smoke house , 

( Chorus : “Row, row , ray!”) 

De wheat in de wheat bin , 

De cotton fields is white a, 

O-o-o-o-o row , ray! 

De ’possum upper ’ simmon tree, 

De coon in de hollow, 

De cattle on a thousend hill, 

De hoe-cake am a-bakin* , 

De rasher am a-fryin , 

Dinah ain’t a-cryin’. 

0 niggers! row ray! 

Marser gone to ’ Lanty , 

To git de plow so handy. 

Dis nigger is so happy; 

Gwi’ ter beat ole Jakey! 

Row ray! Shuck dat corn! 

De hogs all a-fat’nin , 

De shoes am a-tannin , 

De ghis all a-hummin’, 

De broaches all a-spunnin’ , 

De looms all a-bummin’ , 

De banjoes all a-tummin’, 

Christ mus is a-cummin’ . 

Roy ray, I say! Row ray! 

De taters am a-roastin’, 

De barbecue a-toastin’ ! 

O-o-o-o-o row ray!” 

Each line, sung out by Willis in as many dif- 
ferent attitudes and varying vociferations, was 
followed by the roaring chorus, “Row, row, ray,” 
accompanied by splitting whoops and yells, crash- 
ing, tearing of shucks and rain of corn ears. 


LOfC. 


IOO 


Lorna Carswell. 


Jake, meantime, was neither outdone nor 
drowned. Soon as Willis struck up his corn song 
“Roy ray,” Jake split the skies with a roar like 
a thousand bulls with another corn song of en- 
tirely different key and tune, “O-o-o-o, who laid 
de rail?” followed by a mighty swinging chorus 
on his side of “Who laid the rail?” Jake rapidly 
improvised, too, sometimes by the most grotesque 
pantomime, always followed in exact time, whether 
his lead was spoken or acted, by that cradle- 
rocking chorus, “Who laid de rail V* 

With both corn songs going like mad at the 
same time, in different key and tune, it was nip 
and tuck not only which side would shuck out its 
half the corn first, but which could drown the 
other in voice. On a still night the chorus could 
be heard six miles away over the hills of Georgia. 

For nearly three hours the rapid shucking went 
on, but with quite a variety of corn songs. When 
there was but little left on each side and the race 
close, the scramble and snatching for ears to shuck 
was simply crazy ! 

Talk about excitement at baseball matches and 
horse races where thousands of whites, men and 
wdmen, go plumb wild! All such pale into in- 
significance compared to the vehement, exciting, 
roaring corn-shucking match between some two 
hundred negroes on a big plantation in ante- 
bellum days. 

Willis’s side finished first, just by the skin of a, 
tooth, or, rather, to be a little more elegant, by the 
shucks of a few ears of corn. He was snatched up 
bodily by a dozen strong men and rushed round 
the place amid laughing screams by his women 


A Story ot the South. ioi 

and yells and whoops by his men. Jake was also 
seized by as many on his side as could catch him 
by the arms and heels, and with a “One, two, 
three, let er go !” was sent as from a catapult some 
thirty feet through space to the top of a big 
shuck pile. He crawled out in good humor. It 
was a close race, and all was fair. He had en- 
joyed it hugely. 

Cindy came up and praised him consolingly. 


102 


Lorna Carswell 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE BOGY-PUNKIN-DEBBLE-HANT. 

Now, the carriage house, where Mars Julus and 
Ben had so mysteriously and secretly worked on 
that big pumpkin, was about midway between the 
corn crib and the kitchen, and some four hundred 
feet from either. The way between the two was 
directly by and in front of the carriage house, and 
it was somewhat dark about the latter. The big 
door of this house had been shut, but just as the 
exciting corn-shucking race ended, and Willis was 
being carried on men’s shoulders in triumph, and 
Jake was being hurled into the great shuck pile, 
two small figures had slipped it wide open. The 
yawning blackness of the inside was visible to 
anyone passing by as he got directly in front. 

Even before the door was opened, every picka- 
ninny in passing would scurry by the dark place. 
Just now, when the coast was clear, Ben had 
quickly sneaked in that carriage house, struck a 
match, adjusted something, then, as if even afraid 
of the horrible spectacle left of his own creation, 
hurried out. He joined Julian, who had been 
hiding behind a big chestnut tree, and both boys, 
full of a dreadfully amusing importance, hastened 


A Story of the South. 103 

away and diffidently joined the crowd at the 
kitchen, looking as innocent as lambs 

“Raymon ! Lila ! Ben ! Emma \” cried Merric, 
“dey’s froo shuckin' en’ mos’ done fetch up de 
barbecue. Run down dere en’ tole ’em supper 
raidy.” 

Several small-fry volunteers joined those so com- 
manded, and all hurried away in a scattering run- 
ning black string. Raymon was in the lead and 
had nearly passed the carriage house, when he sud- 
denly gave a yell of fright and simply flew on the 
wings of fear down to the crib, and fell there amid 
the crowd, trembling and incoherently crying, 
“0 Lord-a-Massy, sabe us ! Debbie bant kaige 
house — seed ’em blood eyes — mos’ kotch me — big 
ez fodderstack — 0 sumuasn hide me en’ go tell 
massa !” And Raymon, in agony of fear, rolled, 
scrambled and crawled under the big shuck pile. 

In consternation the crowd gazed at the bulging 
shucks as he pushed his way further and further 
under. 

“Whay — whay de debble — whicherway he gwine, 
en’ whay he cum fum ?” cried nearly every fright- 
ened soul. The little niggers hustled under the 
shucks. 

When Raymon had uttered his first blood- 
curdling yell, those with him had stopped right in 
front of that carriage house. For a moment they 
stood paralyzed, looking with horror into the dark 
house at the two great red eyes and open mouth of 
flame and red hot teeth ready to devour soul and 
body. 

Lila and Emma and all the rest, with unearthly 
screams at every leap, ran back to the kitchen and 


1 04 


Lorna Carswell. 


huddled around Marina and Merric, crying, 
“Debbie hant — see de debble — kaidge house — run 
tell marser — do please run tell marsa quick.” 

Ben, too, ran and hollered and trembled just as 
if scared out of his senses, and even won the pity of 
Merric, so everlasting frightened the little rascal 
appeared to be. Julian hid under the edge of the 
biggus behind a brick pillar and peeped out anx- 
iously, watching further developments. 

By this time some of the older men and women 
simultaneously started from the crib and from the 
kitchen, meeting each other at the carriage house. 
But quick as the foremost ones got far enough to 
see inside and caught a glimpse of the horrible red 
eyes and mouth and teeth of the dreadful spook, 
they incontinently screamed and fled back whence 
they came. 

Mose and his crowd at the kitchen hollered to 
Willis and his crowd at the crib — the one to the 
other back and forth — to go see what in earth or 
heaven it was in the carriage house. 

While this parley of mutual fear was going on, 
the wily Ben had slipped off away round and come 
up behind the carriage house and crawled under it. 

Amy, alias Hop-and-go-fetch-it, because she 
limped, had meantime ran into the residence where 
her master and mistress were. This little negro 
girl, because of her lameness from birth, and be- 
cause, also, of her cheerful and amiable dispo- 
sition, was treated in many ways as a kind of 
household pet by all the white family. She made 
a picture w'orthy of an artist’s brush, as she 
rushed in, all excitement and big eyes, and de- 
murely said: 


A Story of the South. 105 

“Marser, Mistus, de debble done come en’ gin 
all on ’em fitses ! He down dar in kaige house. 
De barbecue waitin’ an all de niggers skaid to def. 
Dunno what ’e wants, ceppen hits Jeff fer stealin’ 
dem tucky aigs. Ben’s got lirious trimmins, en’ 
nobody know whar Mars Julus. Emma say he 
eyes big ez ” 

Amy’s hearers were hurrying out and she after 
them, very much afraid of being left a moment 
alone. Even Col. Carswell was somewhat as- 
tounded and puzzled at the highly excited condi- 
tion in which he found the slaves, old and young. 

“Here, Mose, Merric, Sukey! What is all this 
foolish hubbub about ?” 

“Marser, dere’s de debble, sho, in dat kaige 
house — kaze I seed ’im wid mer own eyes !” 

“Nonsense, Mose ! Here, come with me and we 
will pay our respects to his satanic majesty.” 

Meantime Mrs. Carswell had found Julian, and 
could hardly understand why the little fellow 
seemed only comically curious in the midst of all 
the excitement. 

Mose followed his master, and a long string of 
black faces followed Mose single file, peeping over 
each other’s shoulders and ready to run at a 
moment’s warning. 

Mrs. Carswell followed also, the more timid ones 
keeping as close to her as possible, some of the 
girls even holding on to her dress. Miss Teln 
was on Nellie’s shoulders, holding on tightly with 
both arms around Nellie’s neck. 

Before this crowd arrived at the carriage house, 
the master called to Willis and Hansom down at 


jo6 Lorna Carswell. 

the crib to come on and stop all that silly foolish- 
ness. 

Carswell now reached the front of the carriage 
house and stood looking at the horribly infernal 
glowing eyes and red open mouth and long pointed 
teeth of the frightful monster, so silently occupy- 
ing the black depths. 

Carswell solved the mystery readily, but did not 
tell his thoughts. “Here you, Willis, Jake! I’ll 
give a dollar to any man who will volunteer and 
go in there and bring that spook, hant, devil, or 
whatever it is, out here to me. Come, who will 
go?” 

Willis looked at Jake and Jake looked at Willis, 
both hesitating. They were both brave men, so 
far as earthly matters went; but where the un- 
canny spook or devil or haunt, anything unnatural, 
that worked on superstitious fears came in, they 
feared and quailed. Many of their race believe 
in being tricked or hoodooed by enemies or evil 
spirits. Let a negro, and some whites, too, believe, 
for instance, that a place is haunted, then love nor 
money can entice them there. The women moaned 
and cried out to them not to go a step into that 
carriage house. Loo and Cindy actually held on 
to them and hysterically pleaded that they must 
not go in there. 

“I will give two dollars/’ said Carswell. 

Mose was close and economical and loved money. 
The temptation was too great. So with a great 
bluster to screw his courage up to the sticking 
point, he boldly and loudly said, as if to frighten 
that very devil in there now : 


A Story of the South. 107 

“I’ll go, Marster. Debbie or angel, spook, bogy, 
or hant, Fll fotch ’im out.” 

And he courageously started in with a pitchfork 
held bayonet fashion. Nearly all the men and 
boys were armed by this time with stick, rock, hoe,, 
shovel or knife. 

Now, the rats had worried the coachman. Han- 
som, in that same carriage house, and he had set 
a steel trap on the floor therein. As Mose was 
moving cautiously inside with pitchfork set and 
eyes about closed to keep from seeing the horror 
he was facing, all at once there was a sharp “ker- 
zip” heard, and such another frantic kicking and 
smothered cursing and dancing by Moses, that all 
the negroes outside squalled and cried and moaned 
in mortal agony of fear, and many ran away as fast 
as their heels could carry them. Then when some- 
thing hard hit the roof inside and knocked off a 
shingle, nearly every one scurried away despite 
Carswell’s peremptory orders for them to remain 
where they were. Mose scrambled and tumbled 
out, leaving his pitchfork, and hopping on one 
foot. He was pale as he could be and almost 
speechless, until he was convinced by his master 
that it was only a steel trap that had nipped his 
foot. No encouragement of Carswell could get 
him to venture in again — not even three dollars. 

All the while of Mose’s combat with the steel 
trap, the bogy devil stared right on silently, with 
quivering, blood-shot eyes and most hellish grin. 

The scattered crowd, when the word passed 
about a steel trap, again gathered behind master 
and mistress. Julian apparently had a fit of hys- 


108 Lorna Carswell. 

terics. He had whispered to his mother what the 
thing really was. 

Jake and Willis finally agreed to go in together 
and divide the three dollars. And in they went, 
although their teeth chattered and knees trembled 
spite of all they could do. They had not gone far 
•inside when something in the dark there, as if 
coming out of the hidden caverns of the earth, 
uttered a wild catterwaul shriek and ended with a 
moaning wail as a lost soul in Dante’s Inferno. 

Flesh and blood could not stand this, and the 
two brave captains tumbled over each other in 
their frantic retreat. 

Ben, under the carriage house, chuckled to him- 
self on the success of his voice, and Julian was so 
overcome that he came near betraying something. 
Carswell now saw that it was time to allay all 
fears, and when the crowd was once more gathered 
at a safe distance, he himself started in. Just then 
the devil seemed to give a flickering gasp and 
disappeared, and all was silent darkness. 

Striking a match, the master, nevertheless, pro- 
ceeded, and soon walked out with the pumpkin 
head in his hands. 

The reaction with the slaves was instant and im- 
mense as they all now went merrily to the waiting 
barbecue supper. 

Ben and Mars Julus got together and acted so 
wildly obstreperous that the whole thing was soon 
known to be their work. 

Mose and Jake and Willis ate in subdued silence. 
Mose refused to let Marma put a meal poultice on 
his trap-wounded foot. The master gave them a 
dollar each, anyway. 


A Story of the South. 109 

Cindy and Loo laughed themselves into fits 
every time they looked at Jake and Willis. 

EJaymon and others were finally induced to crawl 
out of the shucks and come to supper. 

Some of the mothers had to scatter the entire 
big shuck pile before they found the last missing 
pickaninny. 

After supper all hands played games, danced 
and frolicked until nearly midnight ; then the vis- 
iting bands could be heard singing in the distance 
over the hills, returning to their cabin homes. 

And many a one in dreams that night, no doubt, 
woke up laughing in his sleep. 


no 


Lorna Carswell 


CHAPTER XVII. 

AMBITION AND POLITICS. 

While life was thus passing merrily at Rural 
Shades, with all its happy toil and successive joys, 
each in due season, the far Western village of 
Theodore Selkirk had undergone almost magic 
changes. Immigration, capital and speculation 
suddenly swooped upon it as a flood tide. The 
sleepy hamlet aroused, discovered its latent 
strength, brightened into throbbing energy, and 
went on a regular Western boom. 

Our young lawj^er suddenly found his services 
in great demand, and pocketed the large retainer 
fees voluntarily shoved into his hands by the 
pushing capitalist with an air as if he had been ac- 
customed to such for years past. Within one short 
month his business amounted to more than he had 
expected for the next half decade. 

With a glad heart he had sent the first hundred 
dollars to his friend of a day away down South, in 
G-eorgia. A warm-hearted letter of thanks and 
gratitude accompanied the remittance. He deeply 
cherished the prompt, encouraging reply of Cars- 
well, and ever after remembered the day of its 
reception as a bright spot in his life. 


Ill 


A Story of the South. 

As one hurries along through the years, ab- 
sorbed in his own affairs, he little dreams of how 
great import for good an earnest word of approval 
and encouragement, spoken in due season to a 
struggling fellow mortal, may prove. To many a 
youth striving for a start in life, with no capital 
hut his inexperienced head and mere physical 
strength, such a word fitly spoken may do more 
for his success than if you had placed in his hand 
a gift of a thousand dollars. • 

Selkirk now found his long probation of pa- 
tient study and self-denying economy fully re- 
warded. In this new rush of business he managed 
not to lose his head, and found the treasures of 
knowledge stored in a fertile brain during the past 
few years of inestimable value just now. His case 
demonstrated that knowledge is indeed power. 

He was thrust forward in important business 
transactions that soon won him esteem and promi- 
nence, because of his bright usefulness, in a now 
rapidly growing town that promised to develop 
into a city of great business importance. 

He hugged himself and thanked his good stars 
fervently that he had stubbornly and bravely per- 
severed in hard study during the waiting ordeal 
period. 

Micawber wasted a life waiting for something 
to turn up somewhere or somehow that would boost 
him effortless on to fortune and fame, wondering 
all the while at the stupidity of the world in not 
discovering and utilizing his self-imagined genius. 
Selkirk exercised a vivid working faith that man 
makes his own opportunities upon which to 
mount, and that he must always be ready and 


1X2 


Lorna Carswell. 


have the courage to seize the time in the tide of 
the affairs of men at the flood. 

The exciting political agitations of the day had 
caused him, during those past two years, to study 
with novel, untiring interest the history of his 
country. The study of the Constitution, the 
causes of its adoption, the lives, characters and mo- 
tives of its original framers, the tenets and creeds 
of the different political parties, the motives and 
ambitions that moved each and were now even 
menacing the perpetuity of the government — all 
this possessed a peculiarly absorbing interest to 
the young lawyer. From aboriginal America to 
the recent raid of John Brown at Harper’s Ferry, 
all was carefully studied and critically reviewed. 

He was ambitious before. Now it is added with 
regret that he was inordinately so. The energetic 
aspiration to become an actor in the great public 
drama possessed him. He secretly determined, at 
cost of a twinge of conscience, that, with or with- 
out a saving moral grace, even, if necessary, to 
mount upon the selfish, stormy passions of men 
alone, he would play a conspicuous part on the po- 
litical stage. 

His adopted home was in one of the free States. 
The republican-abolition party was in the ascend- 
ant, and he grimly resolved to make of it his step- 
ping-stones. Had chance or design located him 
where the democratic party controlled, he would 
have as grimly determined to cast his fortunes 
with it. 

For his present feverish, selfish purpose, one 
party was as good as another. 

This moral battle, ending in the weak decision to 


A Story of the South. 113 

smother principle under cover of nnholy ambition 
was in bitter antagonism with his naturally candid 
disposition. He felt that self-respect was smirched 
— as if his better nature fled, and at a distance 
stood sorrowfully accusing. In his recent poverty 
and quiet, studious life the moral attributes were 
stronger. One month of unprecedented prosperity 
in close contact with the class who schemed, 
planned and fought for money-making almost to 
the exclusion of all else, had weakened the moral 
and stirred the ambitious elements of his character. 

There are men who cannot endure adversity; 
there are others who cannot stand prosperity. 

Selkirk compromised with conscience for the 
present by deciding to again review the history of 
political parties from a moral standpoint. To his 
vivid imagination and wide-awake intellect the 
so-called prosy facts of history assumed the form 
of an intensely interesting drama, tragedy and 
comedy blended. 

ACT FIRST BEFORE REVOLUTION - 1760. 

Colonies of Virginia and South Carolina : “Will 
your Majesty please stop the infamous slave trade 
and prohibit your merchants importing any slaves 
to sell in your colonies here? We do not want 
them/ 5 

England: “I wonder at your presumptuous, 
impertinent petition. Of course we will not pay 
any attention to it. My people are largely en- 
gaged in kidnapping Africans, and making lots of 
money out of the business. Our American col- 
onies give a profitable market for sale of these 


Lorna Carswell. 


1 14 

negroes. It suits ns to nse it, don’t yon know. 
Wrong, you say ! The traffic in slaves is six thous- 
and years old. It is perfectly right as long as it is 
profitable.” 

New ESngland: “Your Majesty is eminently 
correct. Our merchant marine is interested in 
this business, too. We hope you will not tolerate 
any such interferences on the part of any of your 
Southern colonies. Protestant England has for 
years, and is now contending with Catholic France 
for possession of and dominion over the New 
World of America. In the common defense of the 
Colonies, England has spent, and is spending, vast 
treasure and thousands of lives to curb the aggres- 
sions of France and her Indian allies. The grass 
is hardly yet green over the graves of Braddock 
and Howe and Wolfe. These petitions of Vir- 
ginia and South Carolina and other Southern col- 
onies against the slave trade are impertinent and 
absurd. There’s millions in the traffic, and New 
England intends to pocket a full share. Your Maj- 
esty’s American Colonies now number over a mil- 
lion and a half souls, with only some three hun- 
dred thousand negro slaves. With our vast landed 
possessions, we can sell and utilize millions of 
Africans in the future.” 

ACT SECOND 1763. 

France: “Our hated rival, England, has forced 
us to relinquish to her American Colonies all ter- 
ritory east of the great Mississippi from its source 
to the Gulf of Mexico. But, by the memories of 
our Jesuit priests, of La Salle, of the blood of 


H5 


A Story of the South. 

Dieskau and Montcalm, we have arranged matters 
for a future American rebellion by which our ar- 
rogant rival will lose those same colonies. Our 
policy shall be to aid and encourage the spirit of 
freedom and independence in said colonies against 
the arbitrary rule of the mother country. This 
very Canada we now cede to great Britain will 
tend to strengthen the trend of the American 
Colonies for independence by increasing their 
power. It has come to our ears that even ten 
years back a young leader of American thought 
has said: ‘In another century all Europe will not 
be able to subdue us. The only way to keep us 
from setting up for ourselves is to disunite us. ? 
That booby, George III., is bound to do things to 
cause a hullabaloo muddle and quarrel with his col- 
onies. And those fellows will fight ! We know it 
from recent sore experience. The spirit of ,a 
George Washington of Virginia will never tamely 
submit to the arbitrary acts of such a character as 
George III. of England and the ministry he will 
choose.” 


act third — 1776. 

[Enter Thomas Jefferson of Virginia, John 
Adams of Massachusetts, Benjamin Franklin of 
Pennsylvania, Roger Sherman of Connecticut, 
Robert R. Livingston of Hew York — a committee 
of Congress to draft a Declaration of American In- 
dependence.] 

Chairman Jefferson: “Gentlemen, we must 
unite or perish. The Rubicon is crossed. Lex- 
ington, Bunker Hill and the siege of Boston leave 


n6 Lorna Carswell. 

no hope for any amicable adjustment of onr rights 
with the British Crown. We cannot safely depend 
at this crisis upon uncertain supplies and illy-reg- 
ulated, insubordinate militia for the common de- 
fense. A declaration of independence must be 
severally and jointly agreed upon by all these 
colonies.” 

Just then the committee was interrupted by the 
entrance of France. “Excuse me, Messieurs, but 
I learn you are about to declare independence ! 
Ha, ha, ha ! I thought in 1763 it would come to 
this! I will retire and would not interrupt your 
work for the world. Good luck to you.” 

Jefferson : “I hold that we are created just as 
equal in all respects, and are endowed with the in- 
alienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of 
happiness in just as high a degree as Great Britain, 
or any other nation. The causes that impel this 
separation are many and exasperating to the high- 
est degree, and a decent respect for the opinions 
of mankind calls for enumeration of the same. 
There is one cause that rather delicately concerns 
the general interest. The relation of master and 
slave exists in all the colonies. Back in 1760 Vir- 
ginia and some of the other Southern Colonies, in- 
cluding South Carolina, most urgently petitioned 
the Crown to suppress the African slave trade and 
prohibit the importation and sale of slaves to our 
colonies. Among other matters, I had thought of 
inserting an article in our declaration condemning 
the foreign slave trade, and urging England’s pro- 
tection of it and forcing slaves upon these colonies 
as one of the main justifications of our rebellion. 
But I regret to state that at this period of our his- 


*i7 


A Story of the South. 

tory some of the Southern colonies favor the slave 
trade, and many of our Northern brethren in New 
England are largely interested and engaged in the 
kidnapping and shipping of negroes for sale in our 
Southern markets. After mature deliberation, 
I have concluded that the best way out of it is to 
say nothing about the slave question in our com- 
mon declaration. At the present crisis, when our 
safety and success depend on complete union, it 
would, in my opinion, be very impolitic to intro- 
duce anything so calculated under existing facts to 
engender dissatisfaction and sentiments of dis- 
union. There is one other count, though, that 
I believe all will be agreed upon, and that is the 
attempts of the British Crown to excite servile in- 
surrections among us and to disturb our domestic 
peace and happiness. This count alone is suffi- 
cient to fully justify our rebellion. A combina- 
tion has been made to subject us to a jurisdiction 
foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged 
by our laws. We have warned them, from time 
to time, of attempts by their legislatures to extend 
an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have 
reminded them of the circumstances of our emi- 
gration and settlement here. We have adjured 
them, by the ties of our common kindred, to dis- 
avow these usurpations, which would inevitably 
interrupt our connections. But they have been 
deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. 

“We, therefore, will solemnly publish and de- 
clare that these United Colonies are, and of right 
ought to be, Free and Independent States. 

“Now, gentlemen, how shall we proceed ?” 

All (in concert) : “We fully agree with your 


1 1 8 


Lorna Carswell. 


ideas and sentiments as you have expressed them.” 

Benjamin Franklin: “Mr. Chairman, you and 
John, here, draw up the declaration. If it was 
about soap and candles, or printing, or electricity, 
I would do it myself.” 

John Adams: “No, Ben, I cannot write in 
strong, clear style, like Tom. Just let him fix the 
thing up. He knows the whole business.” 

So it was delegated to J efferson to “fix the thing 
up,” and he did it in a style that won the admira- 
tion of generations. 


ACT FOURTH 1787. 

George Washington, President of Convention : 
“Gentlemen of the Convention — Aifter battling 
seven long, weary years, these United Colonies 
wrested their independence from Great Britain, 
resulting in the treaty of peace of September 3d, 
1783. Since 1778 we have struggled, as the United 
States of America, under the Articles of Confed- 
eration. In the long fight for independence each 
of the States, from New Hampshire to Georgia, 
has toiled and sacrificed its full measure for the 
common safety and success. The object of this 
convention is to form a more perfect union, estab- 
lish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide 
for the common defense, promote the general wel- 
fare, and secure the blessings of liberty to our- 
selves and our posterity. There is one question I 
shall call special attention to. Slavery now ex- 
ists in all the States. It was forced upon us by 
England, aided by our own slave traders and pur- 


A Story of the South. 119 

chasers of slaves. It is well known that the senti- 
ments of myself and of my State have been, and 
are now, against the slave traffic and for emancipa- 
tion. I, myself, by inheritance or otherwise, own 
slaves. The number of slaves in these United 
States at this time are distributed about as follows : 
In New England, 48,000; in Virginia, Maryland, 
North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia, 
649,000 ; in Delaware, 9,000. Prior to this con- 
vention Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina and 
Massachusetts have legislated against the African 
slave trade. South Carolina joined in the 
petition to the Crown to prohibit the slave trade. 
It is evident that a large preponderance of senti- 
ment is for emancipation. North Carolina, in 
1774, resolved neither to import nor to purchase 
slaves. Georgia, when settled in 1733, endeavored 
to prohibit slavery within its borders. Her Darien 
Colony, in 1775, resolved manumission of slaves, if 
possible, upon a safe and equitable footing for the 
owners thereof. 

"It is with pride I inform this convention that 
Virginia has recently, in 1783, ceded to these 
United States her magnificent Northwest Terri- 
tory to help us as a nation pay the debts incurred 
by the revolutionary war. An ordinance in con- 
nection with this munificent gift prohibits slavery, 
after the year 1800, northwestward of the Ohio 
River. 

"Our declaration of independence does not 
emancipate one solitary African slave; nor does it 
even set up the forcing of slaves by England into 
the colonies as one of the causes of our late rebel- 
lion. It does not even hint at, or include, or con- 


120 Lorna Carswell. 

template the negro slave in any way, shape or man- 
ner. 

“Now, with onr eyes wide open, we have got to 
fix in our proposed constitution the legal binding 
status of the negro slave in these United States for 
ourselves and for future generations. Let there 
be no shenanigan or beating about the bush on this 
subject. Call things by their names, and don’t 
whitewash any individual, community or State. 
And, of all things on earth, avoid sectionalism and 
petty jealousies.” 

The North: “Mr. President, direct taxes and 
representation have to he first agreed upon. Slaves 
are mere property, and cannot be numbered in ap- 
portionment of representation.” 

The South : “That view, if adopted, would cost 
us some numbers of representatives. We have 
millions of property values in slaves. You would 
not only lose us representation, but force us to pay 
an unjust portion of taxes, based on slave values. 
Slaves should be considered as persons.” 

North: “If they are considered persons only, 
then we would have the unequal burden of taxa- 
tion, and lose fair representation.” 

South: “Well, let’s swap horses on this mud- 
dle. We will agree to make the negro both person 
and property. That’s toting fair, we reckon.” 

North : “Yes ; guess so. But not all of ’em can 
be persons. We own so few compared to the many 
you hold.” 

Both (after private caucus) : “Mr. President, 
we have agreed that three-fifths of the slaves shall 
be counted as persons, to add to the number of free 
persons in the apportionment of representatives.” 


I 2 I 


A Story of the South. 

Washington: “Very well, gentlemen. I warn 
yon, however, that you are building a constitution 
that you and your posterity must sacredly and in- 
violably abide by in every particular. By this 
agreement you but strengthen slavery. But, after 
much debate, a great majority of you have adopted 
it, with the full knowledge of all it imports. I 
hope the interests of present and prospective slave 
trade have not influenced your final agreement in 
this particular. Here’s a committee ready to re- 
port on something else.” 

Gorham of Massachusetts, Wilson of Pennsyl- 
vania, Ellsworth of Connecticut, Rutledge of 
South Carolina, and Randolph of Virginia : “Mr. 
President, your committee on exports and importa- 
tions or migrations report, in substance, as fol- 
lows : Every State shall, without tax or duty, take 
all the negroes it may see proper to buy ; nor shall 
the slave trade supplying their wants be prohib- 
ited.” 

Washington: “Great Scott! Have the New 
England slave traders and tb- Southern buyers 
already formed such a coalition! This matter 
must be referred to a committee of one from each 
State. Caesar’s ghost! This thing is enough to 
give England hysterics of derision. It is to be 
hoped the general committee will curb matters.” 

Later the committee of one from each State re- 
ported in substance, through Livingston of New 
Jersey, as follows : 

“Every State now existing shall admit and buy 
all the slaves it wants to until the year 1800 ; and 
all the States engaged in the kidnapping and 
shipping and selling of slaves shall be permitted 


122 


Lorna Carswell. 


to continue the business until the year 1800. But 
a tax or duty may be imposed on every nigger 
so imported, at a rate not exceeding the average 
of the duties laid on imports.” 

Washington : “Well ! This convention is fol- 
lowing my advice about no shenanigan or beating 
about the bush with a vengeance that is refresh- 
ing, if not ornate!” 

An amendment was offered to substitute the 
year “1808”. in place of “1800.” This was car- 
ried affirmatively by a vote as follows: Massa- 
chusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Maryland, 
Georgia, North Carolina, and South Carolina, 
seven votes. 

The negative votes were Pennsylvania, Virginia, 
New Jersey and Delaware, four votes. 

Washington : “Gentlemen ! Allow me to ex- 
press my astonishment that every New England 
State has voted to extend the slave traffic for at 
least twenty years longer. As little Rhody is the 
only New England State not represented here, I 
reckon she, too, would, if here, give the same vote 
as Massachusetts has just cast. It is well known 
that Rhody is also now largely engaged and inter- 
ested in the slave traffic. This beats the Dutch ! If 
you deem it necessary for the common good to vote 
this measure, not even prohibiting, but extending 
the trade of catching and selling of negroes, there- 
by fully establishing slavery in these United 
States, can’t you fix the thing up and clothe it in 
such manner as not to permit the word ‘slave’ to 
appear in our. proposed constitution ?” 

As finally passed, by the same vote on the 
amendment adding eight years, the proposition 


A Story of the South. 123 

appeared as Article 1, Sec. 9 of the Constitution 
of the United States, thus : 

“The migration or importation of such persons 
as any of the States now existing shall think 
proper to admit shall not be prohibited by the 
Congress prior to the year one thousand eight hun- 
dred and eight, but a tax or duty may be imposed 
on such importations, not exceeding ten dollars 
for each person.” 

New England : “Mr. President, fact of the busi- 
ness is, our folks are largely engaged and have ex- 
pended big capital in this slave trade business. 
To stop it suddenly would teetotally ruin lots of 
our slave merchants and shipping interests. The 
Southern States are our only and best market to 
sell the niggers we catch and ship from Africa. 
Nigger property don’t pay in the Northern States; 
climate don’t suit ’em. We calculate it will take 
at least twenty years to wind up the business and 
lose no money. And it pays big profits. After 
the twenty years we will join you in any scheme 
for the abolishment of human woes.” 

Southern States Voting for the Measure: “Mr. 
President, we already have large property in slaves 
— some of us have it thrust upon us by inheri- 
tance. We have grown up with it, and believe it 
right, as naturally as sparks fly upward. Our 
climate and products suit the slaves and render 
them of immense property value to us. We will 
not adopt any form of government at this time 
that does not propose to protect fully our rights 
and property in slaves. We are attached by a 
thousand ties and memories to our faithful ser- 
vants, and they are happy and content in their lot 


124 


Lorna Carswell. 


in life with ns. We will not now, nor never will, 
tolerate any interference on the part of the general 
government with onr purely domestic concerns. 
We are willing that the slave trade be abolished. 
It suits our sister New England States to run it 
twenty years longer, and we readily agree. Dur- 
ing that time those of us who may want to buy 
more slaves ean do so. In the first periods of 
settlement our forefathers tried to prevent its in- 
troduction among us. Now, after so many years 
and the results of the revolution, it is here with 
us, and we are going to keep what we have.” 

(“If the African slave trade had not been 
permitted to continue for twenty years, if it had 
not been conceded that three-fifths of the slaves 
should be counted in the apportionment of repre- 
sentatives in Congress, if it had not been agreed 
that fugitives from service should be returned to 
their owners, the Thirteen States would not have 
been able in 1787 f to form a more perfect union/ ” 
— Blaine’s Twenty Years of Congress, Yol. i., p. 
!•) 

We leave Selkirk for the present to his further 
search after truth, and gladly return to Bural 
Shades to relate a genuine story of love, tested by 
dust and suffering, and one girl’s laughter, and 
another little maiden’s sympathetic tears. 


A Story of the South. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

LOVE AND DUST. 

Do you remember that old school house up there 
at the cross-roads of adjoining plantations? And 
how the boys and girls would laugh, when, on a 
rainy, muddy day, little Sis Teln was brought to 
school perched on top of Nellie’s shoulders? 

There was a little old dried-up tallow-faced boy 
named John Jackson. He was wiry and smart, 
sober, staid, melancholy ; and whipped several 
larger boys in fair fight because they accused him 
of eating clay. He looked so much like Alexan- 
der H. Stephens that he generally went by the 
nick-name of “Little Elic.” 

We had all heard the ringing voice of the great 
Georgian on some public occasions in the neigh- 
boring town. He stirred' our souls, though we 
then, as children, but little understood the mo- 
mentous themes he so truthfully debated. 

Our school mate, Little Elic, was precocious, 
and evidently a voracious reader, considering his 
age. Somewhere or somehow he had got posses- 
sion of a copy of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” He was a 
friend of Julian, and one afternoon after school 
went home with him to spend the night. Little 


126 


Lorna Carswell. 


Elic’s mother was a poor “widderling,” as Ben 
would say, and was another of Mrs. Carswell’s 
proteges among the poor in her circle of good 
deeds. 

John Jackson that night had this book in, his 
school satchel. After supper Marma, Merric, Wil- 
lis and sometimes several other slaves, would occa- 
sionally get Lorna or Julian to read to them in 
the kitchen. Lorna was away now, and this partic- 
ular evening Julian had promised to read. His 
friend John said he had something he would like 
to read, and it turned out that “Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin” was read, in part, to a negro audience. 

John purposely turned to the most harrowing 
scenes depicted of slave suffering and most tyran- 
nical persecutions of masters and mistresses against 
the so-called helpless innocent slaves. 

The negroes opened their eyes in utter sur- 
prise and consternation and soon interrupted the 
reader with such expressions as “Who say dat?” 
“Whay dat happen?” “Lord! what a lie!” “Us 
nebber hearn o’ sitch ez dat !” “Folks as writ dat 
is ignunt or crazy !” Finally it stirred Marma’s 
indignation to such a pitch, as it associated ideas 
of that peddler abolition agent and Jeff’s sins, that 
she could stand it no longer. 

“Fer de Lord sake, chillun, doan read us enny 
mo dat kind o’ nonsense. Whoever hearn uv sich 
masters and missus in dis worl’ ! We nebber seed 
em, an diden know sich things ever happen. 
Whuffs more, us doan h’leve a word of dat pizen. 
Dev mussa had a ax ter grind. En all dat in name 
o’ de Lord ! Here, teck dis Bible Miss Lorny 
gimme, en read us about de love of Christ. I 


127 


A Story of the South. 

wants somefin’ smoothin' atter dat rufflin' kind 
o' dose." All the others agreed with Marina, and 
so J ohn took the Bible instead. They never tired, 
and regretted when he stopped. 

But Julian had been particularly struck by one 
sentence read by John in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin," 
when the expression “a dam fine girl" was used. 
The little fellow remembered this and longed for 
occasion to use it. 

The next day was Saturday. He loved his little 
Sis Teln, and thought out the problem of how he 
could work up an occasion to use that expression, or 
part of it. Teln that day went with her mother 
to town in the carriage on a shopping business. 

The moment they were gone, Julian went hard 
at work to build a play-house for his little sister. 
Nearly the whole day he worked and tugged, and 
made a door on real hinges of old shoe leather, 
so it would actually open and shut. When at last 
it was all completed he impatiently waited the re- 
turn of the carriage. 

At last they came, and in great pride he got Teln 
to come look what he had for her. 

The little girl was delighted with the house, and 
in great glee opened and shut the real door on 
hinges, while Julian stood by in pleased and com- 
placent dignity enjoying her happiness. 

Now was his time. “Say, Sis Teln, ain’t that 
a dam fine house !" 

The little girl looked at him amazed! Her 
brudder Julian, a Sunday-school scholar, cursing 
like that! after all the teachings of father and 
mother and Sunday-school ! Her happiness all fled. 
She forgot the house and all his labor ; forgot his 


128 


Lorna Carswell. 


love expressed by it for her. “Why, Julian, you 
bad boy ! Fm going right straight and tell mama 
what you said !” And she straightway went. 

The little boy turned away in sorrow, surprise, 
and keen disappointment. 

Love’s labor was lost. He had not realized that 
the expression was in any way contrary to good 
morals. But he shed a bitter tear as he sadly in- 
terpreted his sister’s hasty action as meaning no 
love or appreciation for him. 

She had not gone far, when, on looking back at 
the forlorn, dejected little brother, a wave of love 
and repentance overwhelmed her sympathetic 
heart, and she as hastily ran back to him, petted 
•and (Caressed him, and with eyes brimming with 
tears, pathetically said as she again admired the 
wonderful play-house, 

“Yes, buddie dea., it is a dam fine house !” and 
then burst out crying at the enormity of her 
words. 

The teacher of the school, Mr. Parks, was from 
the North. Years before, on account of a weak 
constitution, he had come South and accepted 
position of teacher offered him by the Southern 
planters. Before the abolitionists had succeeded 
in their plans to work up bitterness and sectional 
hatred between the free States and slave States, 
many teachers in Southern schools were from the 
New England States. Many Southern youth 
also were attendants upon Northern colleges. 
Many families with their servants were accus- 
tomed to spend part of each year at Northern wa- 
tering places and summer health resorts. But 
owing to the success of the agitators on the slavery 


A Story of the South. 129 

question in estranging the free and the slave 
States, all this had practically ceased. 

Mr. Parks had remained, however, through it all, 
had been benefited by the warm climate, and had 
become attached to his surroundings and new as- 
sociations. He was an intelligent, well educated 
gentleman, and was neither a fanatic, nor mere 
politician, nor revolutionist, nor rebel against the 
constitution and established laws of his country. 
After many years residence among the Southern 
slave holders, he had no patience with the aggres- 
sive, meddling interference of parties in other dis- 
tant States with the purely domestic concerns of 
the slave States. 

In those days when moral suasion failed in the 
schools, there was no squeamish hesitation about 
using the switch on obstinate, disobedient pupils.. 

Julian and his solemn friend, John Jackson, 
were well aware of this fact from experience. 
They did no mean thing in school. Their ener- 
gies were largely spent in managing not to be 
caught in) overt acts of pure mischief or real 
disobedience to rules. These rules generally 
filled a couple or more pages of legal cap and were 
posted on the wall near the teacher’s desk. The 
teacher was autocratic and adopted his own con- 
stitution and by-laws by his own individual vote 
without consulting in any manner the community 
of hoys and girls he reigned over. 

He was triune, legislative, judiciary and execu- 
tive, and always kept his instruments of torture in 
full view of his subjects in shape of a bunch of 
switches. Fear, in many cases, was indeed the be- 
ginning of wisdom. 


130 


Lorna Carswell. 


The solemn John had several times appeared 
so callous and unmoved under execution that his 
more sensitive fellow sufferers accused him of 
wearing raw cowhide underwear. He did not deign 
to enlighten them on the subject, and they did not 
dare any forcible means to know for sure. 

One drowsy, regular humble-bee and buzz-fly 
sunny afternoon, while Mr. Parks was conscien- 
tiously and patiently laboring with a class of the 
big boys and girls in the intricacies of algebraic 
equations, “Little Elic” and Julian, sitting behind 
their desk back midway the long building, were 
industriously comparing marbles, stone bruises 
and sore toes. Some one from somewhere threw 
a wad of chewed paper pulp' and it stuck on John’s 
nose. He sat u straight and let it stick there, 
hoping the teacher would see it. It fell off, how- 
ever, and he again gave his undivided attention 
to Julian and a game on the seat between them, 
where squares were penciled and white and black 
buttons used as men. 

The two boys became so absorbed in the game 
that both forgot to keep even one eye on the 
teacher and the possible close of that algebra 
recitation. 

Like the impossible clap of thunder in a clear 
sky, in consternation they heard the teacher per- 
emptorily command, — 

“John Jackson and Julian Carswell ! Come up 
here.” 

The whole school giggled. They afterward 
learned that the teacher had calmly watched them 
a full two minutes before he ordered them to exe- 


A Story of the South. 131 

cution, thus calling attention of every one to their 
absorbing game. 

Now, when Julian first went to school he had 
fallen dead in love with the biggest and oldest 
young lady of the pupils, because, we suppose, she 
petted the little fellow, and even ' kissed him one 
day behind an atlas right in the teacher’s pres- 
ence. But after a while the roguish little black- 
eyed, curly-head brunette, Susie Wiggins, lavished 
a few smiles on him, and she was all the world of 
brightness and love. Then the sweet little blue- 
eyed, dove-like blonde, Carrie Turner, with her 
soft gentle manner and angel face happened one 
day to look lovingly in his direction, and he at 
once felt that she was his Paradise. While the 
bewitching Susie teased and laughed at him, the 
adorable Carrie would gaze at her in silent re- 
proach, and show by a lovely violet-blue glance 
that she was not so heartless. One day a great big 
hoy took a middle sized hoy on his shoulder and 
this middle boy had seized Julian on his shoulders, 
and thus had the little fellow away up near the 
ceiling, and had him frightened. Susie got mad 
as blazes and fought the big boys like a tigress pro- 
tecting her young ; while Carrie ran away and hid 
so she could not see him suffer if he fell, or, per- 
haps, to hide the tears from the public gaze. 

By this time the first big girl love was forgotten 
and he was deeply enchanted by both the lit- 
tle girls. Something decisive must happen, for, to 
save his life, he could not tell which one he loved 
best. 

This decisive something was now about to hap- 
pen as he and John reluctantly marched up to take 


i3 2 


Lorna Carswell. 


the punishment both now knew was utterly un- 
avoidable under the rules. 

They were ordered to sit down on the front 
bench, in full view to await execution, while the 
autocrat deliberately proceeded to finish that ever- 
lasting algebra class recitation, only taking a cas- 
ual glance first to see if the instruments of torture 
were in place and good supply. 

The most trying tim'e to even bravest of men is 
the dread waiting under orders at commencement 
of a battle, inactive within range of the enemy’s 
guns, with a comrade dropping dead in the lines 
here and there. Then again how extremely un- 
pleasant the moments must be to the condemned 
criminal while the noose is being tied, the cap 
placed, and the awful waiting for the trap to 
spring. Or the excruciating, horrible sensations of 
one about to be electrocuted as the chill braces 
and wires are clamped upon the throbbing temple, 
and the momentarily expected death current! 

Our little school boys were none of these classes. 
They could not fight, nor were they to be hanged, 
or killed by an electric bolt. 

Neither did heroic memories of dying as martyrs 
to duty or principle sustain them. But they were 
to undergo switch execution. 

As they sat there, observed of all, Julian cast a 
quick glance across the room where Susie and Car- 
rie sat. The former seemed very much amused at 
his predicament, while the latter’s head was bowed 
on her desk. 

It had not rained in some time. The play 
ground and roads and everywhere were dusty, 
very dusty. John did not play much, but Julian, 


133 


A Story of the South. 

from marble and ball playing and wrestling and 
being rolled in the dry red clay dnsty earth, was 
chock full of dust from head' to heels. His lit- 
tle round jacket was heavy and alive with dust. 
You could hardly touch him anywhere but what a 
little cloud of dust would fly off. 

The sun was in the west, and through the tall 
and broad windows flooded parts of the school 
!room with great flakes and shafts of light. In 
these clearly demarked rays every particle of float- 
ing dust could be seen. The beams came right 
across the stage where the boys were to be thrashed. 

At length the class was through and went to 
their seats. The teacher deliberately selected a 
switch, and standing on the stage ordered John up 
first. Little Elic took his whipping without a 
flinch or twinge or change of countenance. He 
made some dust, but not much. 

Our little Mars Julus was then ordered up. 
The little fellow put on a brave air and determined 
to get through, about like a nervous party takes his 
place to have a tooth pulled. Some laughed and 
snickered, but others felt sorry for the trying 
ordeal the little boy so pitiably tried to brave. 

The first stroke of the switch on that round 
jacket floated a million or more particles of dust 
in that broad shaft of sunlight. By the third to 
fifth stroke a cloud of dust almost hid the boy from 
view. Another one or two did hide him and the 
teacher had to stop and sneeze and walk aside to 
breathe a moment. By this time the cloud had 
floated and enveloped others and they began to 
sneeze. 

The brilliant little brunette, Susie, with a keen 


134 


Lorna Carswell. 


sense of the ludicrous, could control herself no 
longer, and burst into wild peals of uncontrollable 
laughter. 

Sweet little sympathetic Carrie simply cried 
aloud like her heart was broken. Between sneez- 
ing, laughing, crying, coughing, the whole school 
was soon in an uproar. 

Meantime Julian stood in the panoply of dust 
and coughed and sneezed, too, wondering what had 
stopped the switch ; and the teacher, who had weak 
lungs, had tried several times to tell him to go to 
his seat, but could not for coughing and sneezing. 

Finally, when the little fellow understood the 
situation, he, too, burst out in a most comical laugh 
and called John, asking him where he was. John 
came and piloted him out of the cloud and to his 
seat. 

Mr. Parks joined in the general laugh and dis- 
missed the school. 

Amid it all, though, Julian had heard Susie’s 
laugh and Carrie’s cry, and he exultingly felt as 
though he would take ten thousand thrashings, 
dust or no dust, if only to thus win the loving sym- 
pathy of that now dearest of all girls, the girl 
of tender tears. The decisive crisis had happened 
and true love had been tested. To crown it all, 
to make him ineffably, blissfully, unutterably 
happy, before parting that afternoon after school 
he had managed slyly to throw a kiss at the beau- 
tiful Carrie, and she had thrown one back to him 
like a sweet rose petal from a dainty niche in 
Eden’s blooming bowers. 

Next day, overcome by the poesy of love, he 


A Story of the South. 135 

scrawled this Borneo and Juliet verse and bribed 
Teln to deliver it: 

To Carrie: 

My love for you shall ever flow, 

Like water down a cotton row. 

— Prom Julian. 

If those two little sweethearts are still living, 
and these pages should happen to be read by those 
brilliant black eyes and those violet blue eyes, we 
know each will excuse the liberty of using her real 
name in connection with childhood’s memories so 
dear. 


j 36 


Lorna Carswell. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

RETROSPECTION. 

Did you ever, after a quarter of a century or 
more, after childhood had budded into youth, after 
youth had bloomed into manhood, after the hal- 
cyon romance of love and marriage, after long and 
bitter struggle with fortune, after your own happy 
children had grown to youth about your own dear 
hearth and home, revisit your old native State, 
childhood home? There on the old plantation 
paradise where mother rocked you to sleep after 
kissing away your little troubles and heartaches, 
where father prayed for you around the sacred 
family altar, and rode you “on a trot horse to Ban- 
bury Cross.” If such a place exists in your life, 
go to it at once, no matter how far away. Parents 
and some sisters and brothers may long since have 
slept the sleep that knows no waking here. A 
father, a brother, a boyhood friend, may fill some 
unknown soldier grave among the hills of Vir- 
ginia or some other battle scenes, or their memories 
cherished in some known spot by the beautiful and 
pathetic annual decoration days. Yet a visit to 
your cradle home spot of yore will repay by the 
deep and good and dreamy and soothing emo- 


137 


A Story of the South. 

tions it will not fail to inspire in the human heart. 

There will he disappointment as to sizes and dis- 
tances as the eyes of mature age gaze upon the 
scenes and places treasured so long in the memories 
when a child. The long neglected, dismantled ap- 
pearance of the old mansion, caused by extreme 
poverty as a resultant of all the sacrifices and losses 
and deaths and seizures and “contrabands” of the 
war; the almost total disappearance of the once 
happy and hilarious negro cabins; the wastes of 
brown sedge and saplings over broad hill slopes ; 
the valleys where once the cotton and corn grew, 
and fields of grain once waved in mimic billows as 
the southern breeze whispered a caress as it passed ; 
fences all gone, except some half charred remnant 
of the heart of oak visible beneath briars and tan- 
gled wild vines silently testifying the devastation 
of Sherman’s raid. 

A stranger owns what is left of the old place, 
and ekes out a living by cultivating a one-horse 
farm in scattering patches here and there. You 
ask permission to look through the house. It hap- 
pens that he knew your father before the war and 
you are made welcome to do as you please — go 
wherever you would like to. 

You pass from the hallway to each room in turn, 
below and above. Involuntarily you feel as if walk- 
ing in your sleep, and try to persuade yourself 
this is not a dream. 

There in mother’s room must be the identical old 
fashioned high post bedstead you remember being 
tied to once upon a time when you ran away and 
was caught. She had late one afternoon tired her- 
self down running after you way across that “big 


Lorna Carswell. 


138 

burdoom” valley and up the forest slope beyond, 
loving yon so much even in your childish error and 
disobedience that her heart was terribly frightened 
at the idea of your getting lost in those woods and 
night coming on. All the household servants and 
every field hand in hearing had joined in your 
pursuit until a string of them reached from the 
house across the valley and up the opposite slope. 
You kinder got scared yourself to go further and 
hid in a gully where she found you. 

Of course she would have to switch you, and 
there you are tied to that very same bed post you 
now gaze at; and there, too, is old Aunt Jemmie 
Jones pleading for you, and old Marma, too, comes 
in and says she knows you will not run away again, 
and please let you off easy this time. And now, 
twenty-five to thirty years after, you look at the 
same room, you just shed a tear and laugh at the 
same moment. 

Down in the parlor you still hear dear Sis Lor- 
na’s music and sweet singing echoing about the 
walls and the merry laugh of her school girl 
friends, Lula Woolridge and Nina Howell. Bud- 
die Shelton and George Woolridge were killed in 
battle fighting for home and protection of rights 
under the constitution of their country — and Lorna 
— wasted away and died in those days of grief and 
poverty, — and — we are again anticipating. 

You learn there is one negro tenant on the 
place up near the cross-roads, where the school 
house is, still remaining. You want to see again 
where you and John Jackson got the thrashing 
under dusty difficulties. So after musing an hour 
in that same school room and reading yours and 


A Story of the South. 139 

John’s initials cut there on that same desk, you 
look up the colored brother tenant. 

Some distance hack from the road, with only a 
path leading to it, there appears a ramshackle 
shanty, everything about it indicating poverty and 
careless neglect. Out on a red hill slope an old 
negro man is seen plowing an ox. 

You don’t know who he is, and approaching you 
say, “Good morning, uncle.” 

“Wo, dur, Pharo! Wy, cappun, mornin’, sar.” 

Where have you heard that voice? When and 
where have you seen that face? You want to hear 
it again as you closely scrutinize that good natured 
black face. 

“Well, uncle, how is your crop, and how have 
you got along since the war ?” 

“Consequence de crap fuss, boss, der ensamples 
yer deserves rite proxmary doan contest wid mer 
tetotle crap. I’ze giftin’ erlong poly fernenst o’ 
usin’ sens judgematically. Yes,su, cap, weuns don’t 
intolerate wid nuttin’ hut farmin’, en its er hard 
scrabble ter boss merself en wuck too. Newster 
do nuttin’ but driv caige. Sukey, dat’s mer ole 
lady yander, low times is mo harderer dan befo’ 
de dissipation. I try ter swage her by sayin’ us is 
free do, but her doan swage. Her git moan en mo 
swunken en swunken. De high and mighty am 
failin’, en we’se rejuiced ter plow a Pharo ox 0’ de 
lean kine.” 

You know now who he is, and grasping his hard, 
black, dusty hand in yours, you call him Hansom 
and tell him who you are. 

The old negro’s eyes fill with tears as he holds 
tightly to you and huskily calls : 


140 


Lorna Carswell. 


“Sukey! Sukey! run here! Bless God, Mars 
Julus, fer seein* you once fore I dies. Sukey, 
praise de Lord ! Her’s our own little Mars J ulus 
us newster tote eround en druv in de caige 1” 

By this time Sukey of dough block memory, now 
an old woman, has you by the hand, has you in her 
arms, and crying and laughing, nearly eats you up 
in her vociferous happiness at seeing her little boy 
once more. They both forget you are a grown 
man, and lead you to the little old shack, each 
holding one of your hands all the way, and pro- 
testing love and joy, and asking a thousand ques- 
tions about missus and marster and all the family 
they were attached to in their slavery days. 

And your heart is touched and filled with love 
and pity for them. 

And when Sukey insists on preparing you some- 
thing to eat out of their scant and meagre stores, 
and both stand about the humble table to wait 
upon you, your emotions are such that you can 
hardly swallow a morsel, but you bravely do so to 
please dear old Sukey. 


A Story of the South. 


* 4 * 


CHAPTER XX. 

WAS SECESSION" THE SOUTH’S ONLY OR BEST REM* 
EDY, OR A MISTAKE ? 

Viewed from a cool, dispassionate, historical 
standpoint, free from the exasperating and aggres- 
sive aggravations of the day and time against the 
South on the part of the radical republican-aboli- 
tion element that elected Abraham Lincoln as a 
minority President, one is inclined to think that it 
would have been better, perhaps, to have followed 
the lead of Alexander H. Stephens, of Georgia. 
The South still held a working majority in the 
Senate, and possibly enough in the House disposed 
to abide by the Constitution, to check outrageous 
and violent intentions of the radical fanatics. 
Stephens, while admitting the anarchic and re- 
bellious faith-breaking supporters of Lincoln, still 
hoped the Union might be preserved through the 
actions of Congress. 

Now, forty years after, with no motive except 
the love of truth, we leave the question to the can- 
did judgment of the present generation after fol- 
lowing this true story to its close. 

Here in actual touch of natural interests, and 
contact with the South, both white and black, the 


14.2 


Lorna Carswell. 


scales drop from prejudiced eyes, like Saul of Tar- 
sus of old. And some will shed tears of regret 
over the Southern martyrs the elements of his 
party persecuted for thirty years prior to the war, 
and unto death and desolation during and even 
after the war. 

We turn to Selkirk in his study of the Con- 
stitution of his country. 

ACT FOURTH CONTINUED 1787. 

Washington : “Well, gentlemen of the Conven- 
tion, is there anything more on the slavery ques- 
tion? You have extended the slave trade twenty 
years. Every State now owns slaves.” 

The South: “If any of our niggers run away 
into any other State we have got to have the right 
to get them hack or have them returned, regardless 
of any State laws.” 

The North : “Yes, and if any of our niggers get 
away from us or our slave traders we are going to 
follow them up and catch them as our property, no 
matter into what State they go. You see, Mr. 
President, our slave traders in carrying their hu- 
man stock in trade from one State to another to 
sell them have got to be protected in their rights. 
And you know in cases where the nigger don’t pay 
in our climate, we can, during this twenty years, 
sell ’em all to the South. We can’t afford to lose 
any of ’em in transit. We have our slave selling 
agents in all the Southern markets.” 

Both: “Neither of us will enter into this pro- 
posed TJnion unless all these matters are fixed to 
our satisfaction.” 


143 


A Story of the South. 

Washington: “I see you are all determined to 
make the Constitutional Union depend upon the 
recognition and protection of your slave property 
interests. Draw up the clause and let’s be done 
with this part of the business. Don’t put the 
word ‘slave’ in it, however.” 

So the following was duly and formally adopted 
as a part of the Constitution of the United States, 
upon the sacred observance of which on part of 
all the States the continuance of the Union in 
peace should depend: 

“No person held to service or labor in one State 
under the laws thereof, escaping into another, 
shall, in consequence of any law or regulation 
therein, be discharged from such service or labor, 
but shall be delivered up on claim of the party to 
whom such service or labor shall be due.” 

Washington: “You plaster it up very nicely; 
but of course it all simply means that every fugitive 
slave, no matter where he may be found, shall be 
restored to his owner; and any State impeding in 
any manner such delivery and restoration will be 
in clear and open rebellion.” 

The North: “Say, hold on! We ain’t through 
with our niggers yet. We won’t agree to any 
amendment to the Constitution on this twenty 
years’ slave trade license before the time expires. 
You don’t catch New England napping when dol- 
lars can be made. We expect to do a big business 
shipping and selling Africans while the license 
holds good. There shall be no amendments what- 
ever to interfere with the nigger trade prior to 
1808 .” 

The South: “All right. We will agree and 


144 


Lorna Carswell. 


stick to you on that, too. If we plan to buy and 
use a lot more niggers during the twenty years, our 
plans shall not be interfered with in any manner.” 

So there was added a “proviso” to Article V. of 
the Constitution absolutely prohibiting any amend- 
ment prior to 1808 that shall in any manner affect 
the slave trade meantime, or taxation thereof ex- 
cept as already stipulated. 

Washington : “You have thus legislated for the 
increase, extension and protection of slavery in 
your fundamental law — the Constitution of your 
country. This kills forever the cherished hopes 
of many, n^self included, for any general restric- 
tion or emancipation of slavery in this country.” 

act fifth — 1790. 

Pennsylvania: “We present petitions and me- 
morials for abolition of the slave trade and the 
abolition of slavery in these United States.” 

Congress : “In the name of William Penn, the 
Quaker ! You really cannot understand what you 
ask! Your great Founder wrote his treaties in 
the hearts of men, and kept faith inviolate, though 
the heavens fell ! The print of the Constitution 
ratified and adopted by you is hardly dry, when you 
come here in a spirit of anarchy, petitioning us to 
disregard its obligations and our solemn oaths to 
support and defend it !” 

Pennsylvania : “Our State was founded on the 
principle of universal brotherhood of mankind, 
without respect to color or religion. We specially 
petition that you strain to the utmost the powers 
delegated you by the States, for the discourage- 


A Story of the South. 145 

ment of traffic in and enslavement of onr fellow 
men.” 

Congress : “Go back home and do as you please 
about such matters in your own State. You can- 
not come here interfering with the rights under 
the Constitution of any other State or States in 
this Union. Are there any of your fellow men 
held as slaves now in your State ?” 

Penn. : “Well, ye-e-s. But we adopted a plan 
of gradual emancipation in 1780. Uo slave shall 
breathe the air of our State !” 

Congress: “Now, let’s see this emancipation 
act of yours. Here it is. We notice you carefully 
and economically make it fully fifty years after 
1780 before this gradual emancipation can go into 
full effect. In that length of time many of your 
fellow men will not only breathe but die as slaves 
in your State, unless you meantime sell them all to 
the Southern States, or set them free. Quakers 
are rated as lovers of peace and opposed to war. 
Yet you come here asking a thing, which, if grant- 
ed, would promptly bring on disunion or civil war, 
or both. 

“Here is our answer: 

“ ‘Resolved, That Congress has no authority to 
interfere in the emancipation of slaves, or in the 
treatment of them within any of the States ; it re- 
maining with the several States alone to provide 
any regulations therein which humanity and true 
policy may require.’ 

“Remember, after this, that we are sworn to sup- 
port the Constitution of these United States and 
don’t come here again asking us to perjure our- 
selves.” 


146 


Lorna Carswell. 


Penn.: “But we did not vote for that clause 
extending the slave trade twenty years.” 

Congress : “That’s all right. Neither did Vir- 
ginia. But you adopted the Constitution with 
that clause in it, all the same. In 1639 we find 
that your people formally adopted the Bible as 
their constitution. Better go home and read up a 
little on truce-breaking and the keeping of cove- 
nants.” 

ACT SIXTH. 

England : “We discover that our late American 
colonies have organized a republic, and have pre- 
sumed to abolish the slave trade by 1808. We will 
then lose our best slave market. We must repent 
and reform, and work up a moral revolution on 
the subject in this realm. Take the lead in de- 
nouncing slavery as a great crime. Have Parlia- 
ment enact statutes prohibiting the traffic by 1808 
anyway. Proclaim to the world that a slave can- 
not breathe the air of England. Get way up on 
the moral sublimities, don’t you know. 

“They have established slavery, and now we 
must cry out against it and fight it in every wav 
possible. Our policy shall be to cripple their busi- 
ness, to weaken their government by sowing seeds 
of discord and sectionalism and disunion. This 
question of slavery will prove our opportunity. 
Once work up jealousy and fanaticism, and enlist 
the church in the crusade, and the mere politicians, 
and a lot of hysterical women statesmen ! These 
will drag in and entrap a lot of the really virtuous 
and conservative elements who will believe they are 
serving God by disregarding and destroying the 


147 


A Story of the South. 

Constitution of their country and sacrificing the 
lives of their fellow citizens. Ha ! ha ! ha ! J ust 
imagine how the old blue-law Puritan of Massa- 
chusetts will exasperate the warm blooded cavalier 
of Virginia until they come to blows ! This 
mighty rival in America must he curbed and bro- 
ken at any cost.” 


148 


Lorna Carswell. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

SOUTHERN" VIEWS IN" 1860. 

The lights and shadows of another year have 
passed at Rural Shades. It is the season of Christ- 
mas, 1860. All the happy family are at home. 
Shelton and Lorna again have as guests their 
young friends George Woolridge and his lovely 
sister, Lula; the brightly intelligent Xina How- 
ell is there, too — her very presence an inspiration 
of joy and love and gladness to all, both white 
and black. Every servant’s face beamed in ivory 
and shining eyes if she but looked at them. There 
soon arose jealous rivalry as to who should serve 
her most, attend her room, make her fires, wait 
upon her at table. Tender thoughtfulness for 
all — always cheery words fitly spoken — was her 
secret power. 

Mr. Parks, the school teacher, lived with the 
Carswell family, highly respected by every one. 
Some time after he came south from New England, 
he had been solicited by the abolition press to write 
up Southern plantation life and scenes for a 
stated compensation for each article. His in- 
structions were to describe it all true to life, and 
to give in detail every feature of the horrid “slave 


A Story of the South. 149 

oligarchy” and the dreadful condition of slaves 
“panting” for the boon of freedom. 

Mr. Parks, charmed by his new Southern 
friends and' surroundings, wrote his first article, 
picturing truthfully the condition of slaves and 
their treatment by Southern owners as he actually 
found it. Much to his surprise, the article was 
returned unpublished with a curt note to this ef- 
fect : 

“Your namby-pamby effort is rejected by our 
publishing company. Either you wilfully mis- 
represent matters or all our other paid corres- 
pondents in the South lie by wholesale. If you 
cannot send us sensational and harrowing scenes 
of torture and degradation, you may consider our 
offer for your services withdrawn. We do not 
want Paradise idyls — we want lurid hell and a 
lot of it.” 

Disappointed, shocked and disgusted, Mr. Parks 
wrote no more. He was not reduced to the level 
of selling his soul for thirty pieces of silver. 

This Christmas time all the negroes on the 
place had, as customary, a week’s holiday. All 
general labor ceased and the week was given up to 
frolic and dance, visiting other plantations and re- 
ceiving visitors. If there was press for time in 
hauling the cotton bales to the shipping depot, the 
master would hire his own slaves to drive the 
teams during Christmas week. 

After one of Merric’s delightful suppers, the 
white family gather in the big parlor. The broad 
fireplace glows in live golden-red coals of oak and 
hickory, emitting here and there little blue flames 
of purring content. The stately and big brass 


Lorna Carswell. 


x 5° 

andirons glisten as the soft warm glow of light 
outlines their polished shafts and burnished 
globes. There is a light snow outside, and Dennis 
and Ben bring in a new supply of hardwood logs 
and pile them in the ample fireplace. The soft 
purr soon changes to bright mellow roar of flames 
and singing of heated sap at ends of the logs. 
The lighted candles about the piano and tables 
and book cases shrink and fade in humble dismay 
as the light of the fire fills every part of the big 
room. 

Nina had waltzed with Shelton from the dining- 
room door up the entire length of the broad hall- 
way, singing music for the step all the way, and 
added her own bright self to the other lights in 
the parlor just as Dennis and Ben had renewed 
the fire and Emma and Lila had lighted the can- 
dles. 

“Oh ! how delightful and cosy. Ben knew pre- 
cisely how I wanted that fire made (broad, pleased 
grins from Dennis and Ben), and I know Emma 
and Lila thought of me when they polished those 
andirons (delighted giggles from Emma and Lila). 
Shelton, your adorable mother has the best and 
most thoughtful servants in all Dixie land.” 

“And what of my mother’s son ?” said the smit- 
ten Shelton, looking at this girl friend of Lorna’s 
as though he would like, to eat her up. 

“Oh, there are sons and sons, you know,” ex- 
claimed the girl, as she hurried to the piano and 
teasingly improvised a song similar to the later: 
“You are not the only pebble on the beach.” 

Lorna and Lula and George came in, followed 
by Julian and Teln, Mr. and Mrs. Carswell and 


A Story of the South. 151 

Mr. Parks. The latter was a favorite with all 
the young people present because of his gentle re- 
finement. They loved and pitied him, too, because 
of the ill-health that was slowly but surely ebbing 
his life away. 

So when he suggested what pleasure it would 
give him to hear some of their duets and quar- 
tets, they gladly sang for him. 

In view of the seriously dangerous political 
state of affairs in the country, the exciting can- 
vass of the past months resulting in the election 
of Lincoln, the Abolition President, Mr. and Mrs. 
Carswell and Mr. Parks could not help feeling 
very grave and serious. As they listened to the 
voices of the young people, sweet and mellow, 
rich and skilful, blended together in melody, they 
could have wept in sorrow and fear at thought of 
what a near future might bring down upon these 
devotedly loved young heads and hearts. 

Some thought-wave must have conveyed the 
tone of their feelings to the others. As Lorna at- 
tempted to sing something about, “When other 
lips and other hearts their tale of love shall tell, 
then you’ll remember me,” she could not com- 
plete the first verse. 

The tender, impulsive Nina took her in her 
arms away from the piano, kissed the unshed 
tears, carried her to a seat near the cheering fire, 
and sitting there, hand clasped in hand, the two 
girls gazed in premonition at their future of sor- 
row and despair. 

“My dear young folks,” said Carswell, “let’s 
turn this evening into one of our studies of public 
men and measures. You know we have been ac- 


152 


Lorna Carswell. 


customed to discuss literature together. One 
evening the subject was Robert Burns, another it 
was Shakespeare, then Poe, then the History of 
America, of England, and of other nations in 
turn. We have discussed George Washington, 
Cromwell, Gladstone and others. Now, the burn- 
ing question of the hour is. What are we of the 
South to expect from the government of these 
United States in the hands of Abraham Lincoln 
and the class of people who supported him ? Our 
subject to-night, therefore, is Lincoln.” 

Mr. Parks 7 wasted but intellectual face flushed 
and his eye kindled as he said : 

“As the election of Lincoln by a minority popu- 
lar vote is, in one sense, an accident in politics 
caused by the division of the opposing forces, yet 
it is the culmination of the abolition aims and pur- 
poses that have disturbed the peace of the country 
for many years. 

“Any departure from and violation of the terms 
of a written constitution will, if unchecked, finally 
destroy any republican form of government. When 
a people find their sacred fundamental law dis- 
regarded, they lose faith and patriotism turns to 
discontent. You will remember I visited my na- 
tive State in New England the past summer va- 
cation for the first time since coming South. The 
Lincoln supporters were maddened even if the 
Constitution and the rights of slave States under 
it were but mentioned. 

“One argument used by the Lincoln party was 
that the slave labor of the South was hostile to the 
interests of workingmen in the free States, and 
that the abolition-republican party was the free 


i53 


A Story of the South. 

State laborer's friend because it opposed all forms 
of labor in the way of his better remuneration. 
Also, that hostility to slave-labor in the territories 
was but favoring the ‘protected* labor in the 
North. How all this conformed to the pretended 
all-absorbing love and sympathy for the negro 
slaves in the South, I failed to see. But this line 
of argument carried Pennsylvania for Lincoln.*’ 

“Why,** said 1 George, “those very fellows who, 
to win votes, go about shedding crocodile tears 
about freeing the negro and giving him as a 
brother man, equal rights, social, civil and politi- 
cal, actually refuse to let him settle as a freeman 
in their States. But if the negro be a fugitive 
slave, they receive him with open arms. John 
Randolph, of Virginia, gave freedom to his slaves. 
A farm was bought for them by his executors for 
nine thousand dollars in the State of Ohio — a part 
of the very territory dedicated to freedom by Vir- 
ginia — and when his freed negroes went there to 
take possession, they were driven off by men of 
Ohio armed with guns and pistols, and never per- 
mitted to settle upon the land that had been pur- 
chased for them. 

“Mr. Parks* remarks about a written constitu- 
tion and strictly abiding by its terms, reminds me 
of Washington’s farewell address, wherein he says 
that, ‘The constitution which at any time exists, 
until changed by an explicit and authentic act of 
the whole people, is sacredly obligatory upon all;* 
and that any departure therefrom, under whatever 
character, ‘is of fatal tendency, serving to organize 
faction, and put in the place of the will of the 
nation a small but artful and enterprising minor- 


154 


Lorna Carswell. 


ity, by which cunning, ambitious and unprincipled 
men will be enabled to subvert the power of the 
people and to usurp for themselves the reins of 
government/ 77 

“The utter contempt of the Lincoln party,” said 
Shelton, “for the rights of all the Southern States 
under the Constitution, and their derision and dis- 
regard of even the United States Supreme Court 
decisions, convince me that it will be utter folly 
for the future and blindness to the past for the 
South to hope for anything but evil and continued 
robbery at the hands of a sectional faction so cal- 
culatively and methodically mad. Why, if Willis 
and Mose and Hansom were to rush in here this 
moment and ideave our heads with axes and hum 
this house over our bodies as a funeral pyre, their 
John Browns, Giddings, Garrisons, Sumners, Bir- 
neys, Sewards, Phillips, Stowes, and ‘Thompson 7 
British allies, and all their preacher-politicians 
and anti-slavery societies, and J ohn Brown sympa- 
thizers, would shout and praise God for jov that 
some slave-owners had perished; just as Cotton 
Mather thanked God fervently that some witches 
had been murdered. I tell you 77 

“Oh ! my son, all the abolitionists in the world 
combined could not induce one of our servants to 
rise against us in murder or arson. Any insurrec- 
tion of slaves in the South need never be feared in 
the least, no matter what else may happen. The 
slaves would sooner fight for their owners than 
against them. Why, J ohn Brown tried for months 
to induce the Virginia negroes to join in his at- 
tempted insurrection, and not a single slave joined 
him. 


^55 


A Story of the South. 

“You are right, mother dear, but you do not 
realize to what wild and bloody orgies a few sel- 
fish, jealous, ambitious leaders can induce a 
mass of religious fanatics. Think how the de- 
signing Mather and Parris duped the people into 
hanging innocent persons as witches because the 
poor victims were in the way of those two saints’ 
worldly ambitions. The paid British agitator, 
Thompson, proclaimed to cheering audiences in 
Massachusetts that every slave-owner ought to have 
his throat cut ! 

“As to any slave insurrection, they have been 
trying their best for over twenty years now to in- 
cite such and have failed. Look at the class of 
literature with which the abolition press has flood- 
ed the country, all to no avail. 

“Their enlightened Christian consciences soar 
above loyalty to their country’s constitution. With 
immense sanctity they confess being guided by a 
^higher law/ and their governors and state legis- 
lators and congressmen solemnly take the oath of 
office to abide by, protect and defend the Constitu- 
tion of these United States, with a mental reser- 
vation as to any guaranteed rights of the Southern 
States. 

“The only safe way to judge what the South 
may expect under Lincoln is to analyze the back- 
ing and following of Lincoln. The history of Lin- 
coln shows him up weaker than some republican- 
abolition party leaders, and he as President will in- 
evitably act as these leaders dictate. 

“Here is a specimen of the kind of campaign lit- 
erature used throughout the North and West to 
promote the election of Abraham Lincoln. I will 


Lorna Carswell. 


156 

read you some extracts from this ‘Impending 
Crisis of the South, arid How to Meet It/ 

“Within itself it is not worth a moment’s no- 
tice, as it is on a par with the carloads of similar 
abolition literature. 

“But this work is endorsed by the written recom • 
mendations of sixty-eight republican members of 
Congress, besides a large number of leading men 
in the republican party, members of the republican 
committee, abolition societies, and the abolition 
press generally, as a fine campaign document .to 
circulate in the North and West to secure votes for 
Lincoln. 

“W. H. Seward, of New York, gives it his writ- 
ten endorsement, dated ‘Auburn, N. Y., June 28th, 
1857/ when it first appeared, in which he gives it 
his unqualified approval after having carefully 
read it. Sherman, of Ohio, signed its endorse- 
ment. All of the Sumner, Chase, Giddings and 
Lovejoy element heartily approved it. 

“Now, Sis Lorna, you and Nina quit gazing at 
the coals so wistfully, and listen at these beautiful 
extracts. They will cheer you up. 

“Charleston and all other Southern towns and 
cities are mentioned as ‘niggervilles’ in a most dis- 
reputable part of our common country. Here on 
page 26 are these words: ‘We are not only in fa- 
vor of keeping slavery out of the territories, but 
we here unhesitatingly declare ourselves in favor 
of its immediate and unconditional abolition in 
every State in this confederacy where it now ex- 
ists/ 

“Throughout the book I read as follows: 

“‘The peculiar institution has but a short ex- 


i57 


A Story of the South. 

istence before it. Each revolving year brings 
nearer the inevitable crisis. The sooner it conies, 
the better ; may heaven hasten its advent/ 

“ ‘Henceforth and forever guard our legislative 
halls from the pollutions and usurpations of pro- 
slavery demagogues/ 

“ ‘Slave-owners a villainous oligarchy/ 

“ ‘Every white man in the South who is under 
the necessity of earning his bread by the sweat of 
his brow is treated as if he were a loathsome beast 
and shunned with the utmost disdain. Would be 
deemed intolerably presumptuous if he dared to 
open his mouth in the presence of an august knight 
of the whip and the lash/ 

“Every slave-owner is repeatedly described as 
‘lords of the lash, haughty cavalier of shackles 
and handcuffs, slave-driving ruffians/ ‘No man 
of genuine decency and refinement would hold 
slaves as property on any terms/ 

“ ‘Would as soon apply the word gentleman to 
any pro-slavery man as to a border ruffian, thief or 
murderer/ 

‘“We do not recognize propertv in man — you 
must emancipate them — speedilv emancipate 
them — or we will emancipate them for you ! 
Would you bring upon yourselves, your 
wives and your children a fate too horrible 
to contemplate? Shall the South furnish a more 
direful scene of atrocity and carnage than the mas- 
sacre of St. Bartholomew? The negroes, in nine 
cases out of ten. would be delighted with an op- 
portunity to cut their master’s throats. We are de- 
termined to abolish slavery at all hazards/ 

“‘It is the full and fixed determination of a 


Lorna Carswell. 


158 

majority of the more intelligent and patriotic citi- 
zens of this republic that the presidential chair 
shall never again be filled by a slavocrat.’ 99 

“What !” interposed Nina, “the great republican 
‘union’ party endorse rank rebellion and treason 
like that? Whenever the South modestly claims 
any of its constitutional rights, they all, with one 
accord, call us disunionists, while they, at the same 
time, are gnilty of a thousand acts in violent 
rebellion against the union.” 

“That last extract reminds me,” said George, 
“that John P. Hale, a leading republican, said in 
a speech in Massachusetts last October, that ‘The 
union was more likely to be dissolved if he (Mr. 
Lincoln) was not elected .’ 99 

Mr. Parks: “You might add that the same 
John P. Hale, of New Hampshire, while United 
States Senator, on February 1st, 1850, presented 
a petition in Congress, signed by the people of 
Pennsylvania and Delaware, asking Congress ‘to 
devise and propose, without delay, some plan for 
the immediate peaceful dissolution of the Ameri- 
can Union.’ And on February 25th, 1850, Gid- 
dings, of Ohio, offered the same resolution in the 
House. Such petitions were frequently offered for 
a period of years to the legislature of Massachu- 
setts, requesting it to intercede with Congress for 
a peaceful dissolution of the union. You can im- 
agine the biting sarcastic irony of Daniel Webster 
when Hale presented the petition in the Senate, 
when the great expounder of the Constitution sug- 
gested a preamble to such petition as follows : 

“ ‘Whereas, at the commencement of the session, 
you, and each of you, took your solemn oath in the 


159 


A Story of the South. 

presence of God and on the Holy Evangelists that 
yon would support the Constitution of the United 
States; now, therefore, we pray you to take im- 
mediate steps to break up the union and over- 
throw the Constitution of the United States as soon 
as you can/ 

“Seward and Chase voted with Hale for the 
reception of said petition. The same Seward and 
Chase were candidates before the republican con- 
vention in Chicago last May for President of these 
United States. Lincoln was nominated, but on 
the first ballot Seward received 173 votes. Lin- 
coln 102, and Chase 49 votes. 

“Listen at this same Seward in a speech at 
Rochester, N. Y., October 25, 1858, scaring the 
Northern masses with that political spectre, the 
‘slave power/ and dreadful ‘slave oligarchy/ as 
though it was a monster about to consume the en- 
tire country. He says : 

“ ‘Either the cotton and rice fields of South 
Carolina and the sugar plantations of Louisiana 
will be ultimately tilled by free labor, and Charles- 
ton and New Orleans become the marts for legiti- 
mate merchandise alone, or else the rye fields and 
wheat fields of Massachusetts and New York must 
again be surrendered by their farmers to slave 
culture and the production of slaves, and Boston 
and New York become once more markets for 
trade in the bodies and souls of men P 

“Unholy ambition for place and power and the 
spoils of office could carry no man to deeper 
depths of the wily politician fooling the people 
than this specimen. Such as this, in full knowl- 
edge of an immense Northern preponderance in 


160 Lorna Carswell, 

population and wealth — in ever increasing ma- 
jority in the electoral college — in the Senate — in 
the House — increase, too, of free States to nearly 
double the number of slave States — the South 
restricted in the territories and the North un- 
limited — in fact, an absolute, dominating, increas- 
ing majority in the North, and a diminishing 
minority in the South. And yet these designing 
leaders parade before their dupes the bogy ‘slave 
power’ and ‘slave oligarchy/ in order to either 
rule or ruin the entire (Country, or both.” 

“Oh! why do they not leave us alone?” wearily 
said Lula Woolridge. “Our general government 
as it was agreed to by all the States. Why all 
this quarrel? Are the business interests of the 
South interfering with those of the North ? Is all 
sense of moral obligation dead in the North ? 

“Why should they fret and fume about our af- 
fairs? They have restricted our rights in the 
common territory, arbitrarily taxed us to support 
their manufactures by a class system of tariffs, 
and now they propose to rob us of all our slayes. 
They would own slaves yet if their climate had al- 
lowed slave labor profitable. They will not let the 
negro go to their States, and they won’t let him 
live in peace here. If they free them, then what 
will they do with them, pray ?” 

“On that score,” said Sheiton, “listen to another 
extract in this delectable book, approved by the 
Lincoln supporters: ■ 

“ ‘For the negroes and other persons, of what- 
ever color or condition, we demand all the rights, 
interests and prerogatives that are guaranteed to 
corresponding classes of mankind in the North, in 


A Story of the South. 161 

England, in France, in Germany. Any proposi- 
tion that may he offered conceding less than this 
demand will promtly and disdainfully rejected/ 

“You see by this that their design is simply to 
create political factors out of our slaves by giving 
them the right to vote, making them our social and 
political equals in all respects. Then on page 
178, here they propose to force the slave owners 
to pay a tax of $60 per annum on each and every 
slave, and keep increasing the tax until slavery is 
taxed out of existence ; the money to be paid over 
to the slaves. When freed, they propose further 
to keep the negroes in the South and confiscate 
our lands and even personal effects, and turn it 
over to the freedmen. All this is set forth here on 
pages 178 to 180” 

“Oh, Shelton !” exclaimed Lorna, “what can he 
the good or use to pay any attention to such wild 
vagaries? We all remember what Lincoln posi- 
tively asserted in his speech at Charleston, Illinois, 
on September 18th, 1858. I shall find it and read 
it. Here, now; listen: 

“ ‘I will say, then, that I am not, nor ever 
have been, in favor of bringing about in any way 
the social and political equality of the white and 
black races; that I am not, nor ever have been, in 
favor of making voters or jurors of negroes, nor 
of qualifying them to hold office, nor to inter- 
marry with white people; and I will say, in ad- 
dition to this, that there is a physical difference 
between the white and black races which I be- 
lieve will forever forbid the two races living to- 
gether on terms of social and political equality. 
And, inasmuch as they cannot so live, while they 


162 


Lorna Carswell, 


do remain together, there must be the position of 
superior and inferior, and I, as much as any other 
man, am in favor of having the superior position 
assigned to the white race. I do not understand 
that there is any place where an alteration of the 
social and political relations of the negro and the 
white man can be made, except in the state legis- 
lature — not in the Congress of the United States/ 

“And here at Quincy, Illinois, October 13th, 
1858, Lincoln reiterates, as follows: 

“‘My own feelings' would' not admit a social 
and political equality between the white and black 
races, and that, even if my own feelings would ad- 
mit of it, I still know that the public sentiment of 
the country would not, and that such a thing was 
an utter impossibility. I will say here, while upon 
the subject, that I have no purpose, directly or in- 
directly, to interfere with the institution of slavery 
in the States where it exists. I believe I have no 
lawful right to do so, and I have no inclination to 
do so. I have no purpose to introduce political 
and social equality between the white and black 
races. There is a physical difference between the 
two which, in my judgment, will probably for- 
ever forbid them living together on the footing 
of perfect equality/ 99 

“That is all correct,” George interposed, “but 
if you examine fully all that Lincoln said at the 
time in those Lincoln-Douglas debates, when the 
contestants were rival candidates in Illinois for 
the United States Senate, you will find Lincoln 
equivocal and vacillating — catering in Chicago to 
one class and in Southern Illinois to another class. 
While he was giving utterance to what you have 


A Story of the South. 163 

read, his party and following were in another por- 
tion of the same State advocating total abolition 
and total equality. But putting all that aside, his 
denunciations of the Supreme Court decision in 
the Dred Scott case brands Lincoln an extreme 
agitator in open and dangerous revolt against the 
Constitution and the supreme law of his country. 

“This decision declared that acts of Congress 
prohibiting slavery in the territories were void 
and unconstitutional; that slavery was as much 
entitled to protection in any portion of the com- 
mon national domain as any other species of prop- 
erty. It was a terrible rebuke to the unlawful 
aims of the ambitious abolition politicians and re- 
ligious zealots, and they violently rebelled. 

“While Justices Grier, of Pennsylvania, and 
Kelson, of Hew York, concurred with Chief Jus- 
tice Taney, of Maryland, yet they escaped censure, 
and all the republican-abolition vials of wrath and 
hate were poured upon the devoted head of Taney. 

“Lincoln in his anger so far forgot himself as 
to publicly denounce and accuse two Presidents, 
one Senator (his rival) and a Chief Justice of the 
United States of a conspiracy and malfeasance in 
concocting the decision for political purposes. He 
made speeches stirring the passion and opposition 
of the masses against the written, adjudicated su- 
preme law of his country, because it did not fit 
or coincide with his personal political views/ 5 


Lorna Carswell. 


164 


CHAPTER XXII. 

SOUTHERN VIEWS IN 1860 CONTINUED. 

We add to George Woolridge’s views in 1860 the 
following from James G. Blaine, a leading repub- 
lican, in his "Twenty Years of Congress,” 1884 : 

"It (Dred Scott decision) was received through- 
out the North with scorn and indignation. Effect 
was to develop a more determined type of anti- 
slavery agitation. It was popularly believed that 
the whole case was made up in order to afford an 
opportunity for the political opinions delivered by 
the court. This was an extreme view, not justified 
by the facts. Chief Justice Taney was not only 
a man of great attainments, but was singularly 
pure and upright in his life and conversation. He 
had proved a most acceptable and impartial judge, 
earning renown and escaping censure until he 
dealt directly with the question of slavery.” 

Mr. Blaine then describes a scene in Congress, 
in 1864, when, upon the death of Roger Brooke 
Taney, who for twenty-eight years had been Chief 
Justice of the Supreme Court of the United 
States, the customary proposition in such cases, to 
pay respects to his memory, was rudely and sav- 
agely attacked by Sumner, Wilson, Hale and Wade, 


A Story of the South. 165 

with such expressions as, “Taney should he hooted 
down the pages of history ;” “had degraded the ju- 
diciary;” “had degraded the age;” “the abhor- 
rence, the scoff, the jeer of the patriotic hearts of 
America ;” “would rather pay two thousand dollars 
to hang the late Chief Justice in effigy than one 
thousand dollars for a bust to commemorate his 
merits;” “T'aney should never be recognized as a 
saint by any vote of Congress.” The proposition 
was withdrawn. 

Mr. Blaine then continues : 

“The Dred Scott decision received no respect 
after Mr. Lincoln became President, and, without 
reversal by the court, was utterly disregarded. 
When President Lincoln, in 1861, authorized the 
denial of the writ of habeas corpus to persons ar- 
rested on a charge of treason, Chief Justice Taney 
delivered an opinion in the case of John Merry- 
man, denying the President’s power to suspend 
the writ, declaring that Congress only was com- 
petent to do it. The executive department paid no 
attention to the decision. The Chief Justice, 
though loyal to the union, was not in sympathy 
with the policy or the measures of Mr. Lincoln’s 
administration.” 

We return to George, who continued : 

“You know, good people, that Lincoln is recog- 
nized as an abolition President. In 1831, the 
leading abolition journalist, William Lloyd Gar- 
rison, established a paper, ‘The Liberator,’ in Bos- 
ton, Massachusetts, and is still its editor. The 
motto of his paper is, ‘The Constitution — a Cove- 
nant with Death, an Agreement with Hell.’ No 
disunion, no treason, no flagrant rebellion in that, 


Lorna Carswell. 


1 66 

is there? No wonder it is folly for the South to 
appeal to the Constitution with a class who do not 
recognize that instrument except to turn all their 
batteries against it. 

“Lincoln saying he was opposed to the intermar- 
riage of white and black races reminds me that for 
over a century and a quarter the Massachusetts 
laws forbade such intermarriage, but in 1840 and 
1841 the abolitionists petitioned that State’s legis- 
lature to repeal the law. More than five thousand 
white men and nearly five thousand white women 
signed the petition. And in 1843 the law was re- 
pealed.” 

“George !” exclaimed his sister Lula, “if you 
can’t think of more decent points for this discus- 
sion, you better hush.” 

“Well, sis, I thought history should always dare 
to tell the truth. Let me proceed with these de- 
lightful extracts in this highly and extensively rec- 
ommended campaign document. Here, Shelton, 
give me the book.” 

“No, no, no !” objelcted Lorna. “Such Non- 
sensical vagaries are insufferable. We don’t want 
to hear any more of it, do you, Nina ?” 

“Well, as a literary curiosity, I don’t object to 
hearing it all, if Shelton likes to read it.” 

Thereupon Shelton proceeded as follows : 

“ ‘The manual exercise of these slave-holding 
tyrants are wholly comprised in the use they make 
of the instruments of torture, such as whips, clubs, 
bowie knives and pistols.’ 

“ ‘Our motto is the abolition of slavery and the 
perpetuation of the American Union. We have 
no modifications to propose, no compromise to 


A Story of the South. 167 

offer. Fret, foam, prepare your weapons ! Strike, 
shoot, stab, bring on civil war, dissolve the union — 
do what yon will, sirs, you can neither foil nor in- 
timidate ns. Onr purpose is as firmly fixed as the 
eternal pillars of heaven; we have determined to 
abolish slavery, and, so help ns God, abolish it we 
will !’ ” 

“Ha ! ha! ha!” laughed Nina; “that is rich! 
Go on, Shelton ; my curiosity is excited.” 

“‘If Washington, Jefferson, Henry, and others 
could be reinvested with corporeal life, and re- 
turned to the South, there is scarcely a slave- 
holder between the Potomac and the mouth of the 
Mississippi that would not burn to pounce upon 
them with bludgeons, bowie knives and pistols !’ ” 

“What a — colossal !” demurely said Nina. 

“Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,” continued Shel- 
ton, “are denominated as venerable old fogies, and 
Southern ministers of the gospel as — clerical lick- 
spittles.” 

“Horrors !” cried Nina, stopping her ears. 

Lorna laughed now and told Shelton to read on. 

“ ‘Compensation to the slave-holders for the 
negroes now in their possession: The idea is 
preposterous; the suggestion is criminal; the de- 
mand is unjust, wicked, monstrous, damnable! 
Shall we pay the whelps of slavery for the privilege 
of converting them into decent, honest, upright 
men? No, never!’ 

“ ‘The non-slave-holders expect to gain and will 
gain something by the abolition of slavery.’ ” 

“In one sense, I suppose that means,” said Cars- 
well, “that if they carry out their design of forcible 
emancipation and negro equality, they will gain 


i68 


Lorna Carswell. 


the negro votes to help perpetuate their political 
power. Imagine the innocent, ignorant, easily de- 
luded negro voter in the hands of people of such 
satanic piety \" 

Shelton continued : 

“ ‘Not to be an abolitionist is to be a wilful and 
diabolical instrument of the devil V 99 

Everyone in the room laughed heartily at this. 

“ ‘Inscribed on the banner which -we herewith 
unfurl to the world, with the full and fixed deter- 
mination to stand by it or die by it : 

“ ‘No co-operation with slave-holders in politics ; 
“ ‘No fellowship with them in religion; 

“ ‘No affiliation with them in society ; 

“‘No recognition of pro-slavery men, except as 
ruffians, outlaws and criminals ; 

“ ‘The greatest possible encouragement to free 
white labor; 

“ ‘Immediate death to slavery/ 

“ ‘It is our honest conviction that all the pro- 
slavery slave-holders deserve at once to be reduced 
to a parallel with the basest criminals that lie fet- 
tered within the cells of our public prisons/ 

“ ‘We are determined to abolish slavery at all 
hazards — in defiance of all the opposition of what- 
ever nature it is possible for the slavocrats to 
bring against us. Of this they may take due 
notice and govern themselves accordingly/ 

“ ‘We believe it is, as it ought to be, the desire, 
the determination, the destiny of the republican 
party to give the death blow to slavery/ 

“Finally,” concluded Shelton, “this saintly 
writer, after four hundred pages disparaging the 
South in every conceivable imagination, pantingly 


A Story of the South. 169 

winds up his globe-size ball of yarn by naming, 
among others, as the future successive Presidents 
of the United States, John C. Fremont, William 
H. Seward, Charles Sumner and Cassius M. 
Clay. As a finale, he hurls dire threats of battle 
against any oligarch who does not quietly submit. 

“Such is the character of the campaign litera- 
ture endorsed and recommended, as I first ex- 
plained, by the republican party elements that most 
largely promoted the election of Abraham Lin- 
coln. 

“To the credit of the Congress of the United 
States, Sherman, of Ohio, in 1858, was defeated 
as a candidate for Speaker of the House, because it 
was discovered that he had signed approving testi- 
monials of this book, from which I have read these 
extracts. 

“During the debates in this same Speakership 
contest another pamphlet of like character was 
brought to public notice, and upon motion of a 
member, portions of it were read in the House. 
This pamphlet had been largely circulated by the 
abolition secret agencies. Here are the debates 
and the portions read from said pamphlet : 

“ “To land military forces in the Southern 
States, who shall raise the standard of freedom 
and call the slaves to it, and such free persons as 
may he willing to join it. — Our plan is to make 
war, openly or secretly, as circumstances may dic- 
tate, upon the property of the slave-holders and 
their abettors, not for its destruction if that can 
be easily avoided, but to convert it to the use of the 
slaves. If it cannot be thus converted, we 
advise its destruction. Teach the slaves to bum 


170 


Lorna Carswell. 


their masters* buildings, to kill their cattle and 
hogs, to conceal and destroy farming utensils, to 
abandon labor in seed time and harvest and let 
the crops perish.* 

“There* s philanthropy in saintly garb ! 

“And when any of the secret agents of these 
Pecksniffs were caught in the South distributing 
such pamphlets, and tarred and feathered, or shot 
on the spot, as they deserved, their newspapers 
North were filled with startling accounts of ‘An- 
other Southern Outrage.* ‘0 tempora ! 0 mores !* 
Catiline was a saint in comparison to these 
Pecksniffian abolitionists.** 

Carswell: “Mr. Parks, you are well-read, and 
no doubt thoroughly posted in past and current 
events. Can you recall any instance in all the 
public utterances of Lincoln wherein he denounces 
or condemns any of the revolutionary acts of his 
party — of any abolition movement, no matter how 
treasonable to or in utter variance with the Con- 
stitution and laws of the country? Has he ever 
uttered a word against the many nullification acts 
of the legislatures of all those Northern States as 
to the fugitive slave law, or the publication and 
dissemination of such literature as we have just 
listened to, or the petitions from Northern States 
for dissolution of the union? In 1844 Massachu- 
setts ‘resolved,* ‘That the project of the annexa- 
tion of Texas, unless arrested on the threshold, 
may tend to drive these States into a dissolution of 
the union.* The same State in 1845 announced 
nullification and secession rights, refusing to ac- 
knowledge or recognize the act of the United 
States Congress admitting Texas. The same year 


A Story of the South. 171 

this Puritan State denied any validity to the com- 
promise measures of Congress of 1820. 

“Is Lincoln, in fact, like the balance of his sup- 
porters, who seek to excuse their rebellion against 
established and present law by amiably confessing 
moral beatitudes away and above and beyond the 
Constitution of their country ? Why, but re- 
cently, last summer, Seward, Lincoln’s right hand 
man, said in a speech in Boston, that Lincoln ‘con- 
fessed the obligations of the Higher Law, con- 
tending for weal or woe, for life or death, in 
the irrepressible conflict between freedom and 
slavery. 5 55 

Carswell, carried away by indignation, roused 
by a doubting amazement at the sanctified, meddle- 
some, insulting attitude of the Lincoln party for 
years past regarding the South, regarding himself, 
his property, his family, his every right, his home 
and fireside — forgot that he had asked Mr. Parks 
a question, and rising to his feet, proceeded rapid- 

iy= 

“The hope of this republican-abolition party 
from its inception by disappointed politicians, was 
appealing to division, sectionalism, free 'States 
against slave States, a solid North against a solid 
South, greed and jealousy, the fanaticism and 
weakness of mad-brained zealots. 

“George Washington saw how the seeds of such 
folly could germinate, and warned the new re- 
public. 

“John Adams appealed for equal and impartial 
regard for the rights, interests, honor and happi- 
ness of all the States in the union, without pref- 


I 


Lorna Carswell. 


erence or regard to a northern or southern, an east- 
ern or western position. 

“Thomas Jefferson advocated the preservation 
of the general government in its whole constitu- 
tional vigor as the sheet anchor of our peace at 
home and safety abroad. 

“James Madison had to call the attention of 
Congress to the refusal of the governors of Massa- 
chusetts to furnish the required detachments of 
militia for the common defense in the war of 1812. 
The call was made in conformity of acts of Con- 
gress alike applicable to all the States. But these 
States refused on the ground that no State was 
obliged to comply with such call unless by its own 
consent ! The war interfered with their shipping 
interests and they preferred to truckle to all the 
wrongs of the British Crown rather than lose dol- 
lars and cents. Their State sovereignty was then, 
in their opinion, over and above any national sov- 
ereignty. 

“James Monroe afterward described in no spar- 
ing terms this act of rebellion and treason. 

“John Quincy Adams deplored the collisions of 
party spirit founded on geographical divisions, ad- 
verse interests of soil, climate and modes of do- 
mestic life, as dangerous elements. 

“Andrew Jackson, in 1837, striking from the 
shoulder at the discordant work of the American 
abolitionists, in collusion with their English abet- 
tors, in his farewell address, scored their systematic 
efforts to sow the seed of discord in different parts 
of the United States, to place party divisions di- 
rectly upon geographical distinctions, to excite the 
North against the South and the South against 


i73 


A Story of the South. 

the North, spoke of artful and designing men al- 
ways found ready to foment these fatal divisions 
and inflame jealousies; of efforts to cast odium 
upon the institutions of the South, disturb their 
rights of property, put in jeopardy their peace and 
tranquillity. He speaks of the kind of ‘philan- 
thropy’ assigned as a reason for such unwarrant- 
able interference, and warns all the goody-goody 
w'eepers that the leaders in this work of discord 
were unworthy of confidence, and deserved the 
strongest reprobation of all thinking men. 

“Martin Van Buren follows in Jackson’s lead in 
denouncing these agitators and public enemies. 

“William Henry Harrison fitly described them 
as looking to the aggrandizement of a few even to 
the destruction of the whole. 

“John Tyler, in referring to the same abolition 
agitators, said that all advocates of the union must 
ever cultivate the important guaranties of the Con- 
stitution of the domestic institutions of each of the 
States and the privilege of each State to attend to 
its own domestic affairs. 

“In a communication to Congress, February 
20th, 1845, he calls attention to pious England, and 
how charterers, brokers, owners and masters of 
American vessels, in collusion with British factors 
and agents, were still carrying on the slave trade. 
These vessels were loaded in England with British 
fabrics for Africa, which were exchanged there for 
slaves. Africans captured at sea on these slavers 
by American cruisers are restored to Africa. But 
British merchants and capitalists furnish means 
of carrying on this slave trade; manufactures for 
which the negroes are exchanged are the products 


174 


Lorna Carswell. 


of British workshops. But when the slave vessels 
are captured by British cruisers, the slaves found 
therein instead of being returned to Africa, are 
carried to British colonial possessions in the West 
Indies and kept there for years as slaves under a 
‘system of apprenticeship/ And the English gov- 
ernment actually pays her officers and crews so 
many pounds sterling per capita by way of bounty 
on the number of slaves so captured and so trans- 
ported to British colonies ! 

“Doubtless the American and British subjects 
who have large capital in this collusion trade are 
the loudest in their sympathetic cries for abolition 
of the slaves in these Southern States. They 
shout the loudest and pray the longest in the abo- 
lition meetings, and profess holy sanctification in 
the mental reservation ‘higher law/ They sit in 
the same pew with that class of abolitionists who, 
when their States passed gradual emancipation 
acts, took calculating care to sell all their slaves to 
the South. 

“James K. Polk, in 1845, understanding their 
aims to use a simple domineering majority, de- 
clared it his aim and purpose as President of the 
United States, to guard against the dangers to 
this republic in substituting mere majorities for 
powers which have been withheld from the federal 
government by the Constitution; that the majority 
rule right was to be exercised in subordination to 
and comforming with the written constitution and 
not otherwise. He denounced the misguided per- 
sons indulging in schemes and agitations to abol- 
ish slavery regardless of law as guilty of atrocious 
treason in lifting hands to destroy the union. 


i75 


A Story of the South. 

“Millard Fillmore announced to Congress and 
the country that no citizen desiring a continuance 
of the Constitution would fail to firmly resist any 
interference in the affairs left to the exclusive 
authority of the States. On February 19th, 1851, 
he called attention of Congress to violation of law 
and high-handed contempt of authority of the 
United States perpetrated by a band of lawless 
confederates in the city of Boston, Massachusetts. 
The legislature of this State had abrogated and 
nullified the fugitive slave law acts of Congress 
intended to carry into effect an article of the Con- 
stitution of the United States. Encouraged by 
such legislative act, the citizens of that State at- 
tacked the duly authorized Deputy United States 
Marshal, and by violence and bloodshed forcibly 
took from him a fugitive slave. In his second an- 
nual message, speaking of mobs resisting the fugi- 
tive slave law, he says : ‘It is worthy of remark that 
the main opposition is aimed against the Con- 
stitution itself, and proceeds from persons and 
classes of persons many of whom declare their wish 
to see the Constitution overturned. It is not to 
be disguised that a spirit exists and has been 
actively at work to rend asunder this union/ Yet 
all these Northern States, who, by their nullifica- 
tion legislative acts, thus defy the Constitution they 
are sworn to support, bray aloud ‘disunionists’ at 
every Southern man who contends for a solemn 
constitutional right! 

“Compare the weak, hedging, gnat-straining 
sophistries of Lincoln in his attacks upon the Su- 
preme Court decisions and a Constitution-recog- 
nized slavery, to the utterances of a Daniel Web- 


1 76 


Lorna Carswell. 


ster! Here I have that able lawyer and patriotic 
statesman’s speeches. Listen to him in June, 1851, 
in the State of Virginia : ‘How absurd it is to sup- 
pose that when different parties enter into a con- 
pact for certain purposes, either can disregard any 
one provision, and expect, nevertheless, the other to 
observe the rest ! I have not hesitated to say, and 
I repeat, that if the Northern States refuse, wil- 
fully and deliberately, to carry into effect that part 
of the Constitution which respects the restoration 
of fugitive slaves, and Congress provide no remedy, 
the South would no longer be bound to observe the 
compact. A bargain cannot be broken on one side 
and still bind the other side. I am as ready to 
fight and to fall for the constitutional rights of 
Virginia as I am for those of Massachusetts/ 
“Here in a speech in the Senate of the United 
States, March 17th, 1850, he scathingly remarks, 
‘My habit is to respect the result of judicial delib- 
erations and the solemnity of judicial decisions/ 
“He calls attention of all conscientious men of 
the North to their sworn constitutional ob- 
ligations, condemns the baneful effects of abolition 
petitions, societies, and their press literature ; ridi- 
cules the strained qualities and turn of benevolence 
and Christianity exercised by these abolitionists 
misled by a strange enthusiasm. ‘If their perspi- 
cacious vision enables them to detect a spot on the 
face of the sun, they think that a good reason why 
the sun should be struck down from heaven !’ This 
last expression was used by him in his cutting de- 
scription of the very holy clergy and laity of the 
Methodist Church, North, in their pharisaical re- 


A Story of the South. 177 

fusal to commune or have fellowship with their 
slave-owning publican brethren of the South. 

“After this speech defending the Constitution, 
Webster, like Chief Justice Taney, was denounced 
by all the abolition pigmies. 

“Franklin Pierce, in his inaugural, 1853, said : 

“ ‘To every theory of society or government, 
whether the offspring of feverish ambition or of 
morbid enthusiasm, calculated to dissolve the bonds 
of law and affection which unite us, I shall inter- 
pose a ready and stern resistance. While the peo- 
ple of the Southern States confine their attention 
to their own affairs, not presuming officiously to 
intermeddle with the social institutions of the 
Northern States, too many of the inhabitants of 
the latter are permanently organized in associa- 
tions to inflict injury on the former by wrongful 
acts, which would he cause of war as between for- 
eign powers/ 

“The election of Lincoln will prove the actual 
beginning of execution of all the wrongs his infatu- 
ated following has been for years threatening the 
South, in addition to the thousand exasperating 
persecutions our people have already suffered at 
their hands. They sever every cord of love, affec- 
tion, patriotism and pride in our once united 
country, and call us traitors, rebels, disunionists, 
if we but dare to flinch at the fratricidal cutting ! 

“By the shades of Washington, Calhoun, Clay 
and Webster! I for one do not propose to submit 
longer to such a dishonorable, humiliating union 
with a horde of such faith-breaking, scheming 
violators of law ! Have they not prayed and 
planned for years to incite my faithful slaves to 


1 78 


Lorna Carswell. 


rise in the dead of night and murder myself, my 
wife, my children? Now, if they are allowed to 
take full possession of this country under Lincoln, 
do you suppose their designing leaders will hesi- 
tate at any crime on the part of their strangely in- 
fatuated zealots? I have no fears whatever from 
the negroes of the South, but what protection to 
life and liberty and property can be expected at 
the hands of a class of people who utterly ignore a 
written constitution? If tears would avail, 1 
could weep in sorrow and keen disappointment at 
the ignominious downfall of this once happy and 
united republic. 

“Regardless of what Lincoln may say, total abo- 
lition of slavery in all the States is the outspoken 
determination of his party at any and all hazards. 
The slave property value of the South is estimated 
at some fourteen hundred million dollars. Do 
they expect any people on earth to quietly yield 
to the confiscation and destruction of such vast 
wealth without a struggle ? 

“The North has aggravated such a storm on this 
slavery question that it has gone out of control of 
any conservative class of citizens among them. 
The abolition salvation army, men, women and 
children, have been taught to believe their very 
soul’s redemption depends on freeing the negroes in 
the South. The history of the ages teaches that 
religious (?) frenzy halts at nothing, no matter 
how atrociously bloody. We have no alternatives 
except secession and disunion, or wholesale robbery 
and forced subjugation.” 

Such, Oh impartial reader, lover of truth, stu- 
dent of history, were the earnest and serious con- 


179 


A Story of the South. 

victions of the people of the South when Abraham 
Lincoln was declared elected President of the 
United States as an abolition candidate. 

As Carswell ceased, a timely diversion was cre- 
ated by the appearance at the door of one of the 
black apples of discord in the nation in the shape 
of Ben’s grinning face. 

“Mars Shelton, Raymon en’ dey all sannt fer to 
know is you en’ Mars George ergwine rarbit 
huntin’ widdem tomorry?” 

“Come in here,” sternly said Shelton. “You For- 
bidden Fruit, you Apple of Paris, you Helen of 
Troy, you Wooden Horse, you Abolition Idol, you 
Slavocrat Bogy, you Politician’s Catspaw, you Oli- 
garchy, you Church Spittle, you Spot on the Sun, 
you National Stain, you Fanatic’s Joy, you Higher 
Law (following the amazed Ben around the room 
and pointing at him tragically), you Pharisee’s 
Boon, you Pigmy’s Stepping Stone, you Clerical’s 
Unction, you Lasher’s Delight, you England’s 
Hope, you America’s Disunion (Ben backs against 
the wall and with a dry grin blinks and hats his 
wondering eyes at each name, staring at Shelton), 
you Ambition’s Opportunity, you Mental Reserva- 
tion, you Constitution Smasher, you Nullification, 
you Fratricide’s Excuse, you Created Equal, you 
Irrepressible Conflict, you Diabolical Master’s 
Ben, you Southern Slave ! Now, you black rascal, 
what about that rabbit hunt ?” 

Ben’s astonished face at once relaxed, and laugh- 
ing in relief, he stuttered : 

“Sakes erlive, Mars Shelton ! you skaid der ray- 
bits outern mer haid. Lemme reckermember. 
Raymon en’ Dennis en’ Willis en’ Jim, enner whole 


180 Lorna Carswell. 

passul fum de string, want yon en’ Mars George 
ter go long en’ shoot de rairbits ferninst de honns 
skaid ’em up.” 

“Oh, Shelton, let ns go, too !” cried Nina, Lorna 
and Lnla. “We can go horseback and see all the 
sport. Yon know how we can ride.” 

“Look here, Ben, you . Hold on, I won’t 

call you any more names. Tell ’em we will all go.” 

“Yasser. Dem niggers sho happy ef all on yer 
glong” 

“Say, Ben, which of these young ladies is the 
prettiest ?” 

“Deys all purty, Mars Shelton, but you know 
Miss Nina de purtiest.” 

Ben was wise. 


A Story of the South. 


181 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE MORALS OF POLITICS. 

Theodore Selkirk’s promotion in politics was 
as rapid as the sudden growth of his Western vil- 
lage. The abolition leaders soon discovered his 
abilities, and at the same time his weakness of be- 
ing easily led by his inordinate, inexperienced am- 
bition. 

After getting him committed as a candidate for 
the State legislature, and after he had delivered 
several political speeches, wildly applauded by the 
extremists of a solid North against a solid South, 
on the slavery question, our young orator caught 
himself dreaming of being governor of his State, 
then United States Senator, then — who knows — 
Chief J ustice or even President ! Should his legal 
knowledge of the Constitution, of the clear rights 
of the South under it, of the wrong he was now 
aiding and agitating, deter him by any squeamish- 
ness of conscience from mounting the glorious 
rounds of the ladder of fame? Did he not see 
many men of all political shades and creeds, not 
only in his State, but in all the Northern States, 
Democrats as well as Republicans, fawning and 
bowing and clinging to this abolition wave in order 


182 


Lorna Carswell. 


to mount upon some one of its foaming crests 
into political interest and power? Why should he 
neglect to take advantage of such opportunity? 
Morals! Politics had no morals, so far as he 
could see at the present hour. 

About this time, in the midst of the exciteed Lin- 
coln presidential campaign, one of the big political 
henchmen from an Eastern State called at Sel- 
kirk’s newly-built and elegant law office. 

“Ah, Selkirk ! Grlad to meet the rising man of 
this Western State ! Need no formal introduction 
between friends. Saw your speech in the papers. 
Fine effort. Noticed in some of our leading East- 
ern papers ! Keep it up, my boy ; give it to ’em ! 
This slavery agitation works like a charm. Noth- 
ing like it since the days of Peter the Hermit. Ha ! 
ha ! ha ! The nigger is our Holy Sepulchre — our 
Holy Land ! The slave-owners of the South 
are our infidels ! More than three thousand of 
our New England clergymen have long since taken 
up the cry. With their pulpit philippics, and our 
mere political tirades, and the thousands of wom- 
en and children anti-slavery societies, we have man- 
aged to make all the uninitiated zealots really be- 
lieve their only way to heaven is over the total 
freedom of the Southern slaves.” 

“Yes, but,” timidly interposed Selkirk, whose 
eyes had never before been so opened, “the Consti- 
tution.” 

“0, damn the Constitution ! We have repudiated 
that old obsolete relic of barbarism, and have a 
higher law. Like the Pontiff Urban, in the Cru- 
sades, we have all the faithful crying aloud for 
the freedom of the slave by saying Tt is the will 


A Story of the South. 183 

of God ! It is the will of God !’ And let me tell 
you right now, my young friend, you can never 
succeed in politics on the abolition band wagon 
if you are foolish enough to pay any attention to 
or have any scruples upon what that old Con- 
stitution recognizes on this slavery question.” 

The old, unscrupulous, experienced politician 
read in Selkirk’s astonished countenance signs of 
repugnance and backsliding in the Lincoln party 
faith and creed. So he adroitly changed his man- 
ner and knowing the neophyte’s weak point, con- 
tinued : 

“Now, look here, Selkirk, my brilliant young 
orator and statesman ! Do not let conscience make 
a coward of you at this the turning point of what 
promises for you a magnificent future. Why, 
Lincoln himself threw down the gage of battle 
on this slavery agitation in his speech at Spring- 
field in 1858 ; he said : Tn my opinion it will not 
cease until a crisis shall have been reached and 
passed. A house divided against itself cannot 
stand. I believe this government cannot endure 
permanently half slave and half free.’ 

“You see our only hope for political power is 
based on keeping alive this division of North and 
South. Shut the door and let me tell you in most 
secret confidence what, all along, have been our 
ambitions. In order to control, finally, this govern- 
ment, we have to control both houses of Congress. 
And by the way, I hope to see you a member of 
Congress at no distant day. To accomplish our 
purposes, the plan was to enrich and populate the 
North as much as possible at the expense and dis- 
paragement of the South — first, by the protective 


Lorna Carswell. 


184 

tariff system, second by keeping the South ont of 
the Territories or acquired States, to get a majority 
of States on our side, get control of the electoral 
college and every department of the government. 

“The South never was so calculating as the 
[North, so we forced them by hook or crook into the 
several compromises which give the North up to 
date nearly three-fourths of all territory outside the 
original thirteen States. The subject of slavery 
has been a God-send to us in these measures. We 
have played upon it as a harp of a thousand strings. 
Ha ! ha ! ha ! After every such compromise, when 
the agitation appeared settled by act of Congress, 
or court decision, some of our fellows would sud- 
denly bring on the same old fight, and the row 
would grind through again, giving us in the end 
the grist and the South the chaff. 

“To keep the abolition elements all on our side, 
thirteen of the Northern States, to enrage and ex- 
asperate the South and to please the Abs., have 
enacted laws in utter disregard to the constitu- 
tional bonds of the union as to fugitive slaves. 
Bless your life, every runaway nigger received 
and protected and made a hero of as an escaped 
martyr, and coddled and petted by the Abs., was 
worth ten thousand or more votes to us. Ever} 7 
lie the escaped slave — sometimes escaped murderer 
— told, as in duty bound about the South, was 
worth thousands of more votes. 

“Why, you can hardly realize the power over 
the people we have obtained by this slavery agi- 
tation ! Beats that of Mohammed over his Sara- 
cens! It is simply marvelous. In Masachusetts 
John A. Andrews has just been elected Governor 


A Story of the South. 185 

of the State, and he an open and avowed sympa- 
thizer with that crazy fool J ohn Brown ! Ohio and 
Iowa refused to surrender to justice some of the 
escaped raiders at Harper’s Ferry. And yet the 
Northern press tried to create belief in the South 
that old Brown had no sympathy North ! 

“I tell you this agitation carries old as well as 
young. Old Josiah Quincy, in June, 1856, pro- 
claimed destruction of the Constitution and forci- 
ble possession of the government at all hazards — 
even dissolution of the Union itself, if the free 
States failed to carry the presidential election ! 

“One thing puzzles me, though, and that is, 
with all the inducements offered and encourage- 
ment given by us, the slaves in the South have 
never made an insurrection against their owners 
nor any concerted break for freedom !” 

“Why,” said Selkirk, “I was South once — in 
the State of Georgia — little more than one year 
since, and I saw nothing to indicate discontent 
among the slaves nor cruelty of masters. On the 
contrary ” 

“Stop ! Walls sometimes have ears. A public 
announcement of what you have just uttered 
would defeat your election ! Be cautious on that 
subject ! It suits our plans to aid and encourage 
every fanatic belief to the contrary, no matter 
how wild and unreasonable. Back in 1854, under 
the lead of Lincoln and others of the faithful, a 
solid geographical party was formed — free States 
vs. slave States — all the anti-slavery element 
united as Republicans to fight everything pro- 
slavery as Democrats. The South claimed equal 
rights with the North, under the Constitution and 


Lorna Carswell. 


1 86 

Supreme Court decisions, to settle in Kansas and 
Nebraska or any common territory. But we deter- 
mined that they should not, even if our opposi- 
tion smashed the union into smithereens ! 

“Of course our actions naturally forced a solid 
South against us — just what we wanted. Then 
we made the welkin ring by crying aloud against 
a sectional, geographical, disunionist, clannish, 
slave oligarchy South trying to snatch the entire 
government from the free North. We managed 
in this way to scare the Northern masses like the 
Moslem hosts frightened Christendom. They 
beat u though, by electing Buchanan on the issue 
of right of South to settle with their slaves in the 
territories. But now the opposition is hopelessly 
divided and we are going to elect Lincoln Presi- 
dent. Ha ! ha ! ha ! It amuses me to hear Lin- 
coln say it is not his intention to interfere with 
slavery where it already exists, but only to prevent 
its spread, when he knows as well as I do that the 
full determined intention of the party nominating 
and voting for him is the total abolition of slavery 
in all the States and everywhere in these United 
States ! We have agitated such a storm on this sub- 
ject that our hope to retain the reins of power after 
we seize them is to do this — force complete eman- 
cipation.” 

“But how can you do this,” asked Selkirk, “with- 
out dissolution and civil war?” 

“0, well, the South won’t fight, and we will 
do it simply by the rule of might and a dominant 
majority. Have they not time and again ‘com- 
promised’ with us to preserve the union, instead 
of fighting to preserve their constitutional rights ? 


A Story of the South. 187 

What can they do when we control the President, 
the Congress and the army? Officers and soldiers 
of the army know nothing bnt obedience to superi- 
ors, as a rule. They are trained to obey orders, 
and not question the morals or politics of war. 
Rather than risk a court-martial and reduction in 
ranks, or lose a chance of fame or military glory, 
most officers and soldiers would shoot their own 
kith and kin, in an unjust war, if ordered to do so. 

“If it does come to blows, why, we will get up a 
great hue and cry of saving the union, and all our 
following will rush to the rescue to save the ‘glori- 
ous union’ and ‘protect the flag,’ regardless of 
whether it he a union under the Constitution or 
not. ,This will result in the forced freedom of the 
slaves, or more likely they will hasten to ‘compro- 
mise’ again with us by agreeing to free their slaves. 
Then what can hinder us from giving the freed 
negroes power to vote, and thus control the present 
slave States as well as the free States ? 1 tell you, 
it is a grand political scheme and will place you 
and me on the top rungs of the political ladder !” 

Selkirk thought of his friend in need, the gen- 
erous Carswell, on that Southern plantation away 
down in Georgia. What a wrong all this would 
bring upon him and his ! As if talking under the 
baleful influence of a basilisk, he pathetically, 
mechanically asked : 

“Why not stop at the line of preventing the fur- 
ther spread of slavery in the territories? Why in- 
terfere with the slave owner’s property and do- 
mestic affairs in his own State ? How does the ex- 
istence of slavery in the Southern States interfere 
with the business interests and labor and prosperity 


i88 


Lorna Carswell. 


and progress and happiness of the North or any 
State wherein slavery is prohibited ?” 

“Why, you a — acute questioner — that would be 
instant political suicide — take the wind from our 
sails and leave us in a dead calm. All our relig- 
ious zealots incessantly and frantically pray on the 
abstract moral principle of universal freedom of 
slaves and confiscation, destruction and death to 
the fiends in human form who own slaves. It 
would be like taking hell out of the Bible at a nig- 
ger camp-meeting — there would be no more collec- 
tions, no more converts, and more backsliding than 
Carter had oats ! No, sir ! the religious element in 
this crusade against the South must be kept warm, 
burning hot, fanned to a flame, and kept at a white 
heat.” 

The big political party manager warmed up with 
his subject and grew still more confidential. Lean- 
ing toward Selkirk, he continued: 

“You see, we know the hot-blood cavalier spirit 
of the South. So long as you treat ’em open and 
fair they are generous and brave and will lavish 
upon you every favor and concession for peace and 
union. But let ’em catch you in unfair, under- 
handed double dealing in matters clearly their 
legal, rights, they go for you regardless of con- 
sequences. By extreme abolition movements in 
our State legislatures, and in a thousand ways, 
we have purposely exasperated some of them to 
hate and despise a union whereunder their lives 
and property are forever threatened and their do- 
mestic tranquillity always being disturbed. No 
wonder some of them boldly swear they will not 
remain in such a union and begin to plan how they 


A Story of the South. 189 

can separate themselves from it. It’s a matter 
of self-protection with them. So yon see we have 
the abolition dissolutionists in the North and the 
secession dissolutionists in the South.” 

“What!” exclaimed Selkirk, “you mean to tell 
me your design is to dissolve the union ?” 

“That depends! One thing dead sure is that 
so long as the Constitution is faithfully adhered to 
we have no hope for any immediate, or hardly re- 
mote, political ascendancy at all permanent. Hence 
our ‘irrepressible conflict/ If through Lincoln 
and an abolition Congress we force the freedom of 
the slaves, and then make them voters, without 
dissolving the union, all well and good. If, how- 
ever, a separation of North and South is the result 
— whether peaceful or bloody — then we will pose 
before the strong and populous North as the he- 
roes, statesmen and patriots who were instrumental 
in separating it from the vile South with all its 
slavery pollution. In either event we come out on 
top and hold the places of high political degree 
If we cannot rule over the whole, we will hold 
sway over the biggest half ! You see, the abolition- 
ists and the secessionists are necessary in order to 
aggravate and bring on that ‘irrepressible con- 
flict/ ” 

Selkirk felt depressed, humiliated, as the bare 
skeleton of inordinate, unscrupulous political am- 
bition was thus exhibited to his young eyes in all 
its selfish horrors. For the moment his soul 
sighed for a return of the poverty and hard strug- 
gles in the former little old shack of a law office, 
when Washington, Jefferson, Clay, Calhoun and 
Webster were his ideals. 


Lorna Carswell. 


190 

The big manager meantime glanced at his watch, 
hurriedly arose and said : 

“Come! It is time for our meeting and your 
speech comes first. I shall introduce you in fine 
style as not only the coming member, but the pos- 
sible future Governor or United States Senator!” 

Selkirk walked away with him, deeply ponder- 
ing. After all it would be best to yield to cir- 
cumstances — do evil that good may come — ride 
into office, no matter what the means — and then, 
when power was his, to turn it upon the kind of 
politicians this big manager was ! With self-con- 
tempt, irritation, madness whirling in his brain, 
the young lawyer mounted the platform and in 
reckless eloquence made a stirring speech against 
the expansion of slavery. 

He then attempted to retire — he wanted to walk 
alone out in the night under the stars — but the big 
manager stopped him. 

“Say, Selkirk, my young Demosthenes, such a 
speech as that has elevated some men to the presi- 
dency ! But I wanted you to stop and see and ob- 
serve. We have here to-night an escaped slave, 
who came with one of our ‘peddlers’ from Georgia. 
He is a sulky-looking, burly black young negro 
man, and looks to me like the devil was in him. 
Between you and me I do not doubt he committed 
some crime and ran away to escape punishment. 
The local committee posted notices of an escaped 
slave being here to-night, and you see doubtless 
every man, woman and child in the town, who 
could possibly leave their homes, here to gaze at 
and sympathize with this curiosity. We are going 


A Story of the South. 191 

to take him to other meetings in the State. Look ! 
there he comes !” 

The local chairman led to the front the de- 
scribed negro. He appeared in travel-worn dust- 
stained tatters, worn shoes and a generally worse- 
f or- wear look. 

“You now behold, fellow-citizens, in the flesh, 
one of the poor sons of Africa, held from his birth 
in cruel, inhuman, torturing bondage by that soul- 
less, pitiless slave oligarchy of the South. By the 
aid and guidance of one of your humane society 
agents he has escaped from his diabolical enslavers 
and flies to you for refuge and protection/’ 

At this point the chairman appeared overcome 
by his emotions. The large audience, men and 
women and children, were deeply affected. Many 
shed tears of pity and sympathy. On the part of 
the masses, outside the knowing, designing poli- 
ticians, this wave of divine human sympathy was 
genuine, deep and sincere. 

The same beautiful, tender-souled women and 
girls, who then and there shed tears of pity at 
sight of this escaped slave, would have wept aloud 
later on could they have beheld Mrs. Carswell, as 
she with a mother’s undying love moaned and 
agonized in unspeakable grief over the battle- 
stained dead body of her boy, her Shelton, her 
hope, her pride, her joy, cut off so early in his fair 
tide of youthful life. 

The big manager now advanced to the side of 
the escaped slave, shook him cordially by the hand, 
exhorted him to be of good cheer — he was now 
among friends and brothers — and requested him 


192 


Lorna Carswell. 


to tell all these good people his life in the South 
and how he escaped. 

The negro only looked confusedly down at his 
feet, and said nothing. 

“Look up, my boy, and tell us your name.” 

“Jeff, sar; but dat ere peddle man he caw me 
Missur Jeffersing.” 

“Well, Mr. Jefferson, what was your late mas- 
ter’s name?” 

“De white folks say Kernel Carlse, sar, but us 
niggers call ’em Mars’ Eddard.” 

At this Selkirk became suddenly all eager at- 
tention. Col. Edward Carswell was his Georgia 
friend, and this negro was evidently a runaway 
from that dearly remembered friend’s plantation. 

Yes, this is our same lazy, trifling, turkey-egg 
stealing J eff ; our faithful old black mammy Mar- 
ina’s source of sorrow. The overseer had whipped 
him one night for refusing to do his appointed 
work and being impudent and sulky in the re- 
fusal. 

Instigated by the peddler’s teachings, Jeff had 
stealthily set fire to his master’s barn and run 
away. Willis happened to see the fire in time to 
put it out before any damage was done. 

“Now, Jeff,” continued the big manager, “tell 
us all about your life as a slave and why you ran 
away.” 

“Atter I done wuck all I could fum fore day 
twill atter dark all de week, en’ half starve, dey 
whoop me ever day kaze .er diden wuck mo. 
En’ whenner coulden wuck all de day 
Sunday, too, dey puddennigh whoop me ter del. 


193 


A Story of the South. 

Denner crawl off en’ hide, en’ git er way wid dat 
peddle man.” 

And Jeff looked injured innocence and martyr- 
dom personified. Selkirk boiled in inward, silent 
rage, at the, to him, evident wholesale fiction of 
the darkey. 

Under the manager’s skillful leading questions, 
the elastic, pliant Jeff pictured slave life on the 
Carswell plantation with all the harrowing fan- 
cies of the most popular abolition writers and 
speakers. Carswell and his overseers were as bad 
as Legree and his infuriate black henchmen in 
“Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” Selkirk left as Jeff re- 
ceived an ovation, and walked for hours out under 
the stars, cursing himself as a weak ingrate pol- 
troon ! 

Since his eyes had been opened by this big man- 
ager to some of the secret ambitious designs of the 
mere politicians in fomenting this slavery agita- 
tion with such selfish purposes in view, his memory 
recalled the solemn warnings of that venerable 
lawyer, statesman and President, James Buchanan. 
How in his inaugural of March 4th, 1857, he con- 
gratulated the country upon this whole territorial 
question being settled upon the principle of pop- 
ular sovereignty ; that all were agreed that under 
the Constitution slavery in the States is beyond the 
reach of any human power except that of the re- 
spective States themselves where it exists; that it 
was hoped, then, that the long agitation will cease, 
that geographical parties will speedily become ex- 
tinct; that for twenty years this agitation had 
proven no positive good to any human being, but 
a prolific source of great evils to the master, to the 


194 


Lorna Carswell. 


slave and to the whole country, alienating and 
estranging people of sister States and seriously 
endangering the very existence of the union; ex- 
horting every union-loving man, therefore, to exert 
his best influence to suppress this agitation, which, 
since the recent legislation of Congress, is without 
any legitimate object. 

Then in his third annual message in December, 
1859, alluding to the Harper’s Ferry incident as 
showing symptoms of an incurable disease in the 
public mind which may break out in still more 
dangerous outrages and terminate at last in an 
open war by the North to abolish slavery in the 
South; of the demon spirit of sectional hatred 
and strife now alive in the land; that those who 
announce abstract doctrines subversive of the Con- 
stitution and the union must not be surprised 
should their heated partisans advance one step 
further and attempt by violence to carry those 
doctrines into practical effect. That so long as 
the peace and safety of the domestic firesides 
throughout fifteen States of this union is threat- 
ened and disturbed, in vain will you recount to 
these people any political benefits of union. Self- 
preservation was the first instinct of nature. 

Then again in December, 1860, in his fourth 
annual message, President Buchanan says that the 
long continued and intemperate interference of 
the Northern people with the question of slavery 
in the Southern States has at length produced its 
natural effects; that it cannot be denied that for 
five and twenty years the agitation in the North 
against slavery has been incessant; that in 1835 
pictorial handbills and inflammatory appeals were 


195 


A Story of the South. 

circulated extensively throughout the South of a 
character to excite the passions of the slaves, and, 
in the language of General Jackson, “to stimulate 
them to insurrection and produce all the horrors 
of servile war;” that this agitation has ever since 
been continued by the public press, by the pro- 
ceedings of State and county conventions, and by 
abolition sermons and lectures; that the term of 
Congress has been occupied in violent speeches 
on this never ending subject, and appeals in 
pamphlets and other forms, indorsed by distin- 
guished names, have been sent forth from this 
central point and spread broadcast over the union. 

That all for which the slave States have ever 
contended is to be let alone and permitted to 
manage their domestic institutions in their own 
way; and that if Northern State Legislatures re- 
fuse to repeal at once their unconstitutional and 
obnoxious enactments regarding fugitive slaves 
it is impossible for any human power to save the 
union. 

Selkirk had looked upon all this slavery agita- 
tion simply as partisan politics that would live its 
day and die out, just as other debated political 
issues had. He had never dreamed of possible 
civil war. He had never known before meeting 
the big manager to what lengths demagogues will 
dare. Now the words of Buchanan appeared of 
momentous weight. He remembered that in the 
same message the President had said that the. 
Southern States, standing on the basis of the Con- 
stitution, have a right to demand this act of jus- 
tice from the States of the North. Should it be 
refused, then the Constitution to which all the 


Lorna Carswell. 


196 

States are parties will have been wilfully violated 
by one portion of them in a provision essential to 
the domestic security and happiness of the re- 
mainder. In that event, the injured States, after 
having first used all peaceful and constitutional 
means to obtain redress, would be justified in revo- 
lutionary resistance to the government of the 
union; that the right of resistance on the part of 
the governed against the oppression of their gov- 
ernment cannot be denied, as witness our own 
declaration of independence. Our union can 
never be cemented by the blood of its citizens shed 
in civil war. 

“0, why,” muttered our young lawyer, ponder- 
ing for the first time deeply and seriously on the 
possibility of a great nation being torn asunder 
and forever estranged in its parts by the horrors 
of a fratricidal war — “why am I such a moral 
coward as to permit sordid, corrosive ambition to 
place me in the position of consenting to and 
actually instigating an unpardonable wrong 
against my friend Carswell ! Why did I not rise 
in all the powder of just and indignant wrath and 
defend my friend when that wretch so defamed 
his noble life and character ! Why do I suffer my- 
self, knowing what I do now, to be an accessory 
in this treasonable scheme to even dissolve the 
union of States in this grand republic, if neces- 
sary, in order to boost myself and such men as this 
big manager into political office and power ! To 
play upon the virtues of my people, their sympa- 
thies, their religious zeal in order to excite hate 
and prejudice in the free States against the life and 


A Story of the South. 197 

character and home and fireside of such men as 
Carswell in the slave States !” 

Humanity can hate sin and yet go on sinning. 

We hold in contempt and strong condemnation 
the acts of some poor wretch discovered in his 
criminality, yet go on ourselves and commit the 
same acts. 

Repentance often comes only after discovery. 

Selkirk had discovered himself, hut that was 
quite different from being discovered by the pub- 
lic. So, under the cloak of assumed righteous 
indignation against slavery, himself was led an 
abject slave chained to ambition’s car. 

The Pope saw in the fanatic zeal of Peter the 
means to turn the crusades into religious warfare 
with resultant benefits to the church and increase 
of the papal power. Mahomet, at first a zealous, 
sincere worshipper of God, fell a victim to am- 
bition, threw aside the preacher’s garb and donned 
the warrior’s armor. Under the guise of spread- 
ing the new faith he conquered, plundered and 
murdered even the people of his native city. 

The early Christians disdained all other forms 
of worship as heathenish, impious and idolatrous, 
arrogating to themselves the sole possession of 
divine knowledge, some refusing even to pay taxes 
and conform to laws on the plea that the govern- 
ment was not Christian. History was only repeat- 
ing itself in the position assumed by the Northern 
abolitionist regarding the Southern slave owner. 

The same spirit of intolerance and bigotry ex- 
ists to-day among the Christian churches — some 
condemning all others as sure of and worthy of 
hell because of a difference of interpretation and 


T98 Lorna Carswell. 

exegesis of merely ritualistic points. Some con- 
verts profess a higher law, “second blessing” of 
perfection, and unctiously charge old white-haired 
veteran servants of God with never having been 
converted because they do not confess this “second 
blessing” theory. 

As Selkirk restlessly wandered that night un- 
der the star-glittering dome of the heavens his 
mind almost unconsciously pursued this trend of 
.thought: The ambition of the lowly, reverent 
Christian is to dwell with God forever up yonder 
in mansions not made with hands: The ambition 
of Persia of old was an immortal existence up there 
in a land of supernal light peopled by the fairest 
and loveliest: The warrior Goth hoped for an 
eternal feast of heroes in the burnished palace of 
the god of war: The ancient German held death 
in contempt and hastened to shake off this mortal 
coil to enjoy forever a heaven of immortal drunk- 
enness : The ambition of this atom, this Theodore 
Selkirk is to build his little pinnacle of fame upon 
the sacrifice and ruin of his friend Edward Cars- 
well. 

Concluding that his mind must be vaguely wan- 
dering, he sought forgetfulness in sleep. The last 
thought of his tired brain was, “Honesty is better 
than policy, truth is better than falsehood, courage 
is better than cowardice.” 


A Story of the South. 


399 


CHAPTER XXIV, 

NATURE, LOVE’S SILENT INTERPRETER. 

The morning at Rural Shades following that 
evening 7 s discussion of Lincoln was bright and cold 
and clear. The light snow spread its mantle of 
white over yard and park and broad fields and dis- 
tant valleys and hills and slopes. The stately oak, 
hickory and chestnut, with bare branches clearly 
defined against the vast deep blue of sky, stood at 
rest in the pure, still, noiseless air. The big white 
mansion, with smoke curling dreamily upward 
from its chimneys, looked a picture of comfort, life 
and home. Looking from its broad eastern piazza 
over the stretching fields and rim of forest toward 
sunrise was a vista of soft radiance and sheen of 
sparkling light. 

Down on the “string” of negro cabins at regular 
intervals small columns of blue smoke from each 
cabin chimney lazily crept up in the still air. At 
the last new cabin to the right, under the now bare 
sweet-gum tree, you can see the strong athlete Wil- 
lis swinging his big ax as if a toy into the heart 
of an oak log, cutting a supply of wood for his 
“sumptuous” Loo, now his bride, who stands in the 
doorway talking and singing and laughing at and 


200 


Lorna Carswell. 


with him in that perfectly natural, hearty, careless, 
nothing-to-fear way and manner characteristic 
only of the thoughtless, happy negro slave. Loo 
comes out to help bring in a turn of wood, and 
tills her round arms with it. Willis has his left 
arm full with heavy sticks ready to “tote” in, but 
to keep Loo from “totin’ ” hers, he deftly takes 
her up bodily, her turn of wood and all, in his 
strong right arm, and triumphantly totes in the 
whole business. Then they have a merry dispute 
as to whether she toted her wood or not. Loo 
happens to remember that little episode of Willis’ 
toting the sack of corn on his shoulder while riding 
Mars Eddard’s horse to keep the horse from get- 
ting tired so he could get to go to see her that 
Sunday, and squelches him in the argument. Her 
ringing laugh, so unutterably full of amusement, 
was an inspiration and panacea tonic to all the 
discontented of earth, could they have heard it 
that Christmas week morning on that Georgia 
plantation in 1860. 

As snow enough for coasting down hill is a rare 
occurrence, Ben and his Mars Julus are early 
at that same punkin-debble carriage house, hard at 
work on two one-by three rough plank sleds, on 
which they are going to slide down that steep hill 
to the spring. 

During that morning Ben managed to get all 
the marbles and toys his young master had, and 
all the cakes and goodies he could safely promise, 
by repeatedly hauling his master’s sled back to the 
top of the hill for another slide down. 

It is yet early, but there goes Mose, of barbecue 
fame, always wide awake to make dollars, driving 


201 


A Story of the South. 

his educated team of twelve oxen with a big load 
of cotton bales to market. He has hired himself 
to his master during the holidays. 

Col. Carswell never would allow cursing and 
swearing on the place. Once when Mose, with a 
four-mule team, was hauling a heavy load of 
plantation supplies shipped from northern manu- 
factures, his wagon bogged down, and no amount 
of moral and corporal suasion could make the 
mules budge it. The master happened to be pres- 
ent and waited to see results. Mose appeared 
much hampered by Carswell’s presence. It was a 
severe trial to halloo at and vociferously encourage 
those mules to pull and not cuss a little bit. He 
mumblingly said aside to his fellow teamster: 

“Sno use prodjerkin widdem slong es Marse 
Eddard here. Dem mules ai gwine do nuttin twill 
dey gits er rale stampede thundern lightnen cuss- 
in ! Hits natur uv de beast en dey knows it. 
You jess wait twill Marse lebe ennu hah chance 
ter cuss a passel er blue streaks o’ sulfer en brem- 
stone at em, en dey gwine to move outter dae !” 

Sure enough, when the master got out of hear- 
ing, Mose vociferously turned his furious hose of 
brimstone and sulphur and blue streaks in regular 
hurricane style, and the team, under the excite- 
ment, promptly pulled out. Mose was known to 
boast that he had the thing down to such science 
that, given a good six-mule team and a loud pop- 
ping whip, and unlimited space for his profane 
literary pyrotechnical recitations, he could pull 
Hades from the hidden caverns of the earth. But 
Mars Eddard would have to be two miles off. 

While we have been discussing Mose, his ox 


202 


Lorna Carswell. 


team and big load of cotton have turned out of 
sight up the road at the school house forks. This 
part of the plantation was known as the “J ones 
field,” because purchased in years past from a man 
named Jones. And this reminds you of Raymon’ s 
immense mental strains in trying to learn the 
alphabet under his Master Shelton’s tutelage some 
years prior to the opening of this true tale. 

There, in the Summer time, out in the yard 
under that big oak tree, sits Shelton, and on the 
ground beside him his pupil, Raymon, with one 
of Webster’s old and excellent blueback spelling 
books. The young slave, with all sorts of facial 
Contortions, is trying to learn the Roman capital 
letters, and traces hieroglyphics of them with his 
finger on the smooth ground. The sweat drops 
trickle over the fat, smooth ebony face as Raymon 
works hard to impress on his memory each letter. 

“Clar ter gorrimity, Marse Shelton, disshere 
de hardess wuck dis nigger ebbu tackle ! Wuckin’ 
de craps wid yer sense all free en loose like is 
play side o’ dis. Huccome de white chillun lam 
it, beats me all holler. Cullate hits kaze nigger 
skull too thick. I kin but froo a big barn do an 
not hurt, en ef you do- dat your haid buss. Dis 
fuss top o’ de line iz A, yer say ?” repeating it over 
and over many times. “Ef she jess riccomember 
aigs mebbe her member A. Den B, dats er bull 
foot enner bumble bee. Den C, — dunno how ter 
fix dat. Dis am E, en dat minds me o’ eels us 
kotches in de branch. Dis nex iz er stunner! 
F. F. F., ef I gwine ter de Jones field. Next G. — 
lack gee up dar ter a mule plowin. Dat nex ker- 
flummux H, I nebber spec to member, ceppen I’se 


203 


A Story of the South. 

got de seben-year eech. 0 shucks ! Mars Shelton, 
less go feeshin ! Sno usen gwine crazy. I druther 
kotch horners an poke for turkles in de branch!” 

And master and slave went fishing, free and 
loose from all the martyrdoms of learning. 

Speaking of Raymonds trying to learn the 
Roman capital letters reminds us of a Florida 
statesmen as a member of the State Legislature. 
It was somewhere in the eighties when the eight- 
box ballot law was passed. The object of the law 
was doubtless to protect the black or negro ma- 
jority counties from the ruinous effects of the il- 
literate, ignorant, non-property-owning black vote. 
While the election of Drew as governor in 1876 
had freed the State at large from carpet-bag rule, 
yet some counties, known as the black belt, con- 
tinued to suffer all the ills of carpet-baggism in 
their county affairs. 

Our statesman was a good party man and had 
worked like a Trojan for his party in local county 
political matters. When, therefore, a county con- 
vention was called to nominate a legislative ticket, 
our good man thought his party owed him some- 
thing, and he straightway announced himself a 
candidate. 

He was not the man the convention wanted, but 
they did not want to cut him off too short. So 
the chairmen of the different district delegations 
consulted wisely together and decided to give our 
“horny-handed son of the sile” a complimentary 
vote on the first ballot to make him feel good, and 
then drop him easy like. They wanted him as a 
party worker, but did not want him as a repre- 
sentative. 


204 


Lorna Carswell. 


But lo and behold, when the first ballot was 
counted he was actually nominated! Those wise 
men had forgotten to count noses in that intended 
complimentary 'vote. There was no getting out of 
it now. He was surely nominated, and as solidity 
of party was necessary to beat the enemy, they had 
to elect him. A nominee of the party just simply 
had to be stuck to and elected regardless, else for 
that county there might be ignorant negro jus- 
tices of the peace, constables, sheriff, superinten- 
dent of schools, county judge and negro repre- 
sentatives. Ho split in the party would do under 
any circumstances. It was plainly a gopher case. 

So our statesman was duly elected, and found 
himself in the hall of representatives in Talla- 
hassee with full privileges of the floor when that 
eight-box ballot bill was presented for wise con- 
sideration. 

He favored the bill, as he expressed it in a 
speech, “teetotally with tooth and toe nail and both 
feet a-gohT and a-comin\” 

Unluckily for him, some member, a stranger to 
him, in the heat of the discussion offered an 
amendment to the bill to the effect that the names 
of the candidates should he printed on the ballot 
boxes in plain Roman letters. 

This, to our statesman, was a stunner, a scheme 
of the devil, a plot of the enemy to again foist 
upon the State ignorant negro dominion, led by a 
few leading carpet-bag thieves called politicians. 

“Mr. Speaker \” yelled our man, regardless of 
who had the floor, and obliterative of any rules or 
parliamentary usage. “Mr. Speaker ! I have 
managed to live in Flurridy and make buckle and 


205 


A Story of the South. 

tongue meet and pay my honest debts even 
throughout them tryin’ robberin’ years from soon 
after the war up to 1876. Mr. Speaker and gen- 
tlemen, sirs ! I’m agin that amendment tee- 
totally with tooth and toe nail and both feet flat- 
footed a-goin’ and a-comin’ ! Have we not suf- 
fered enough by niggers repeatin’ votes and car- 
pet-baggers stuffin’ ballot boxes and a-goin’ back 
of their returns! Now, what devilish scheme is 
this to print the names of candidates on the boxes 
in the Roman language? There ain’t a white 
man, nor a nigger either, in my county that knows 
a letter of the Roman language, much less how to 
read the derned stuff! If you pass that amend- 
ment to this bill you will disfranchise every man, 
woman and child in Bradford county ! The ob- 
ject of the bill to squelch ther ignunt black vote 
and let white folks what can read rule this State 
will simmer down into evulastin’ defeat. If you 
carry that amendment you put the nigger on a 
perfect equality with the white man at the polls. 
Don’t you know the nigger knows jest as much 
about the Roman language as the white man? 
Why, sirs, I wouldn’t know myself who nor what 
in thunder I was votin’ for if the names on them 
boxes was in the Roman language!’ 

Amidst a perfect tornado of roaring applause, 
that had grown and increased with each sentence 
he had spoken, our statesman paused. He then 
hurriedly rushed downstairs into Governor Blox- 
ham’s office, and excitedly asked this big hearted 
political adviser how in the nation he could make 
the proper motion to squelch that Roman language 


206 


Lorna Carswell. 


amendment, and to hurry up about it, else they 
might pass it any moment in his absence. 

When it was explained to him that plain Roman 
letters meant nothing but the capital A, B, C let- 
ters in Webster’s blueback, our statesman gave a 
sigh of relief and departed after a most hearty 
handshake of thanks with the amused but wisely 
solemn Governor ! 

He did not go back to the assembly hall, but 
loitered about the beautiful grounds of the old 
massive capitol building. Taking it in from base 
to pinnacle, with a slant of his eye around and 
upward, he remarked to himself: 

“Humph! Some o’ them fools up there still 
howling at my Roman language speech, think they 
could move this capitol. Be Joe Brown if all the 
oxen in the State could budge it !” 

On the way to his boarding house he met a State 
official, who, knowing he lived in the country, 
commenced to debate upon the pleasures and prof- 
its of farm life in Florida. 

“Do you know,” continued the official, “that 
the profits from poultry raising in the United 
States exceeds even the entire cotton crop? I 
should like you to try it. Your farm must be an 
excellent place to raise poultry, is it not?” 

“Don’t know, Colonel — never tried it. But if 
you’ll send me some seeds, I’ll plant ’em. But, 
blame my cats, I just know the ole woman’s 
chickens will scratch every bit of the dern stuff 
up.” 

Coming back to that snowy holiday scene, 
breakfast is over ; the horses for George and Shel- 
ton, Lorna, Nina and Lula, are saddled and 


207 


A Story of the South. 

brougnt round to the front gate by the delighted 
Raymon, Dennis, Jim and others. The pack of 
hounds, eager for the hunt, frisk, bark and caper 
about. Some fifteen or more negro boys, and 
some few grown negro men, are all ready and 
eager to guide the hunting party where rabbits 
abound away over in that old red clay broom 
sedge field and down the branch valleys. There 
were also partridges, doves and squirrels to shoot. 
Only George and Shelton carried shot guns. 

The girls were all excellent riders, and enjoyed 
the sport, the fast riding, the cool bracing air 
and beautiful scenery with the rare carpet of 
snow. After two hours of successful shooting, 
Shelton gave his gun to Jim, and he and Nina 
galloped away together over the hills and down 
the valleys, pictures of young life, in glowing 
spirits. 

Nina Howell, on that crisp, fair day, in a rid- 
ing habit on a spirited horse, formed a picture 
worthy of all the love and adoration thumping 
and bumping in Shelton’s heart for the beau- 
tiful, brilliant girl. 

Of all the gifts of God to man to brighten his 
life and render happy his days, woman is supreme. 
What sacrifice will not your devotion make for 
her ? How much purer and better and nobler your 
life is for her! Her presence is love and light 
and bliss and inspiration. And her love, her wel- 
come, her kiss, are for you — for you ! 

Oh, Nina Howell ! Do you know how irresisti- 
bly attractive and lovable you are? And would 
you, could you, will you, love me as I adore you ? 

Such were Shelton’s thoughts that he all but 


2CS 


Lorna Carswell. 


spoke aloud as he and Nina gazed from the open 
top of a big hill at the surrounding country miles 
away on every side. Here and there could be seen 
the mansion sites of other plantations than Rural 
Shades. 

“Oh, Shelton !” exclaimed Nina, intense emo- 
tion vibrating in every word, “I love every hill, 
dale and mountain in this, my native State of 
Georgia ! Just look •” 

“Then I wish I was a mountain or a ” 

“Nonsense ! Look what an entrancing vision 
of peace and country home life and love and ” 

“Love ! What is love ?” asked Shelton, in rich, 
meaning tones, expressive of the rhapsody that 
filled his soul. 

“Can’t you talk rationally for once with that 
panorama spread before your enraptured gaze? 
Does no appreciative State pride fill your soul?” 
rather imperiously. 

“My heart is filled with rapture,” meekly re- 
plied the young man, as he gazed at the girl in- 
stead of the snow-clad hills. 

It was now midday, and the youth and maiden 
sat silently upon their horses and dreamily gazed 
in the clear sunlight from the hill top. Shelton 
knew that he loved her better than life, and the 
girl realized for the first time a love for his pro- 
tective presence, and that he was fast becoming 
a part of her life. 

Nina looked away at the distant hills, and 
Shelton, as he watched the now animated, now 
sad, now enthused, but ever-changing expression 
of the beloved face, thought he could look forever. 
Sometimes when her glorious eyes met his, he 


209 


A Story of the South. 

could hardly refrain from then and there declar- 
ing his great love for this fair worshipper of 
nature, and claim her as the purest, best work of 
creation. 

At last they rode slowly homeward, and reach- 
ing there, he took her in his arms in helping her 
down. Had no others been present, he would have 
crushed her to his heart and whispered the old, 
sweet story. 

And she, perhaps, would not have been much 
surprised if he had. 


210 


Lorna Carswell, 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE FIRST GUN. 

Our story opens again on April 16, 1861, fonr 
days after the first gun fired upon Fort Sumter, 
and one day after Lincoln’s proclamation for 
troops. 

The beginning of war did not affect Rural 
Shades so far as the farm work was concerned. 
Plowing, planting and cultivating proceeded 
naturally and smoothly as though there was no 
war nor rumors of war. So far as they understood 
matters the full sympathies and wishes of the 
slaves were with the views and feelings of the 
master. 

Col. Carswell returned late from the town with 
the momentous news, driven proudly by his dude 
coachman. Hansom. The master was grave and 
serious; the slave was exhilarated and full of a 
mighty pomposity. 

While Hansom was unhitching his team there 
gathered about him some half dozen or more other 
servants, and full of importance our coachman 
thus delivered his pent up and panting aspirations 
for freedom : 

“Lemme tole you what’s what, niggers, dem 
Linconite free sotters kotch hail Columby at 


21 I 


A Story of the South. 

Sumty in Cullina yether day ! Well, ez I kotch 
on hit wuz disserway. Here de fort hel’ by the 
sotters (marking on the ground), an’ here Charles- 
ton wid gnns big ez hogseds, an* long ez dat chest- 
nut trees loaded ter de muzzles ! Way up here 
summers old Mars Abe Linkum says he gwine 
wision Sumty. Summere down here ole Mars Jeff 
Davis he says, says he, yer dassent do it, kaze ef 
yer do, I’ll hatter tech off dem big gun en blow it 
into flinderations ! Den Mars Abe he kinder hole 
back, and saunt word he wouldn’t wision. Den 
Mars Jeff went on bout he business, but widder 
chip on he shoulder dassening de sotters ter knock 
it off. 

“Den it pere like all the yetHer Bolishers over- 
retch Mars Abe, en suade ’im ter saunt ships to 
wision unberknownst like. Dat wuz same ez 
knocking off dat chip, ceivin like, and the big guns 
wuz teched off ! Ha, ha ! heah, heah ! If de Bol- 
ishers wanted Mars Jeff to fire de fuss gun, dey 
sho got it ! 

“How dey say de Bolitioners is coming wid a 
big army to whoop de Cessioners. But, Lord, 
nigger dey cai do it. Mars Eddard en Mars Shel- 
ton en de Bonners en Woolidges en Howels, en all 
de ress, ai gwi let em’; kaze dey foutin fer dere 
homes en plantations en dere niggers. Humph ! 
Dem Litioners dono who dey foolin wid.” 

“Ef Mars Shelton go in de fight, I’se gwine wid- 
dem sho,” said Raymon loyally. 

“Whut you say, boy?” said Willis, contemptu- 
ously, “Mars Shelton want a man to go wid him 
like me, enner gwine ax Mars Eddard ter lemme 
go.” 


212 


Lorna Carswell 


“Mars Eddard,” said Hansom, with great pride, 
“done tole me he gwine lebe Missus en Miss Lorny 
en little Mars Julius en Miss Teln en de caige en 
horses under my keer en pertection, enner gwine 
to do it or die tryink” 

Meanwhile Col. Carswell and Mr. Parks talked 
earnestly together in the deepening twilight on the 
broad front piazza. 

“As for me,” spoke Carswell with a sigh, “I 
am glad the ‘irrepressible conflict’ our enemies 
have so long wrought up and insisted upon has 
at last taken actual tangible shape and form. I 
would rather fight it out and have done with it 
than continue in such trying and harassing sus- 
pense. I do not think the anti-constitutional 
party that has elected Lincoln will find the North 
by any means unanimous in the support of the 
abolition war party. 

“The one and a half million votes in the North- 
ern States cast against Lincoln are doubtless sup- 
porters of the Union under the Constitution. A 
close study of the history of this presidential elec- 
tion shows that fully three-fifths of this American 
nation are in active sympathy with the South in 
this controversy. The marts of business and trade 
in the North, working in harmonious reciprocity 
with the South, look upon this abolition craze as 
a marplot.” 

“From my observations and researches, what you 
say is undeniably true,” remarked Mr. Parks, “but 
it is a great pity this clash of arms could not be 
stayed until opportunity is given for other con- 
gressional elections. Such elections, I believe, 
would put it out of the power of the abolition ad- 


213 


A Story of the South. 

ministration to wage war upon the South. The 
executive branch of the government would be 
powerless in case of an adverse congress.” 

“We have done everything that honor and self- 
respect would allow,” answered Carswell, “to 
avoid secession and war. Persistently refused our 
undeniable rights in the Union, we are compelled 
to go out of the Union. The South secedes only 
to preserve her constitutional rights. Jefferson 
Davis, soldier in frontier Indian wars, hero on 
the battlefields of Mexico, able statesman in the 
national congress, capable secretary of war, orator, 
pure patriot and Christian gentleman — and now 
our beloved leader for the rights of his people 
under the Constitution — see how he has struggled 
in vain to preserve the Union ! In Faneuil Hall, 
Boston, on October 10, 1858, speaking of the aboli- 
tion agitation, he declares it has been insidiously 
working the purpose of sedition for the destruction 
of that Union on which our hopes of future great- 
ness depend. He appealed, in behalf of preserva- 
tion of the Union, to the hope of mankind in a 
republican form of government, and sacred regard 
for obligations which the deeds and blood of our 
fathers entailed upon us. 

“At Jackson, the capital of the State, we find 
him last fall opposing secession as long as any hope 
of a peaceable remedy remained. 

“As a member of the Senate Committee on the 
‘ Crittenden Compromise’ he was active and 
earnest in trying to preserve the Union of States. 
But you remember how the Republican members 
rejected any and all propositions the Whigs and 
Northern and Southern Democrats agreed on, al- 


214 


Lorna Carswell. 


though these propositions were strictly under and 
in accordance with the Constitution and the Su- 
preme Court decisions. The Republicans refused 
consent to any measure promising settlement. 
Senator Douglas eulogized Jefferson Davis as one 
seeking to preserve peace and union, and chal- 
lenged those Republican senators to say flatly 
what they would do to prevent disunion, but they 
failed even to reply. 

“After South Carolina seceded, Virginia Feb- 
ruary iast called a congress of states to see if the 
Union could be preserved. In this ‘Peace Con- 
gress 5 Salmon P. Chase of Ohio, a distinguished 
abolitionist, and active supporter of Lincoln, 
bluntly told the Southern members that the party 
which had elected Lincoln would not under any 
inducements or circumstances regard the decision 
of the Supreme Court on the slavery question, nor 
any obligations under the Constitution as to the 
Fugitive Slave Law!” 

“How can Union exist, then, where the rights 
of so many states are to. be utterly ignored? My 
rational pride is bowed, bitterly disappointed, in 
the ruins of what I had hoped would prove a per- 
petual grand republic.” 

The two men sat silent for several minutes. Mr. 
Parks proposed going in where lights were. He 
wanted to read some press clippings. 

“Here is one from the Hew York Journal of 
November 30, 1860: ‘There is imminent danger 
of a dissolution of the Union. This danger 
originated in the ambition and cupidity of men 
who desire a Southern despotism, and in the fanat- 
ical zeal of Northern abolitionists who seek the 


215 


A Story of the South. 

emancipation of slaves regardless of consequences/ 

“Here on December 13, 1860, the mayor of 
Philadelphia at a largely attended called meeting, 
said: ‘The misplaced teachings of the pulpit, the 
unwise rhapsodies of the lecture room, the exciting 
appeals of the press, on the subject of slavery, 
must be frowned down by a just and law-abiding 
people/ 

“At the same meeting the State Supreme Court 
Judge, George W. Woodard, said: 

“ ‘The inexorable exclusion of slave ’properties 
from the common territories, which the govern- 
ment holds in trust for the people of all the States, 
is a natural and direct step toward the grand 
result of extinguishing slave property, and was 
one of the record issues of the late election. . . . 

Everywhere in the South the people are beginning 
to look out for a means of self-defense. Could it 
be expected that she would be indifferent to such 
events as have occurred? That she would stand 
idle and see measures concerted and carried for- 
ward for the annihilation of her property in slaves ? 
. . . The Northern States abolished their 

slavery, and so gratified their innate love of free- 
dom — but they did it gradually, and so did not 
wound their love of gain. They sold out slavery 
to the South ; and they received a full equivalent, 
not only in the price paid, but in the manufactur- 
ing and commercial prosperity which grew up 
from the production of slave labor. . . . 

Whence come these excessive sensibilities, that 
cannot bear a few slaves in a remote territory until 
the white people establish a constitution? What 
does that editor or preacher know of the Union, 


216 


Lorna Carswell. 


and of the men who made it, who habitually reviles 
and misrepresents the So-uthern people, and excites 
the ignorant and the thoughtless in our midst to 
hate and persecute them? Let me not prophesy 
smooth things and cry peace when there is no 
peace. Let the truth be spoken, be heard, be pon- 
dered, if we mean to save the Union. . . . To- 

day every upstart politician can stir the people to 
mutiny against the domestic institutions of our 
Southern neighbors; the ribald jests of seditious 
editors like Greeley and Beecher can sway legisla- 
tures and popular votes against the handiwork of 
Washington or Madison, when the scurrilous libels 
of such a book as Helper’s become a favorite cam- 
paign document and are accepted by thousands as 
law and gospel both — when jealousy and hate have 
extinguished all our fraternal feelings for those 
who were born our brethren and who have done us 
no harm/ 

“In the discussion at this same mass meeting 
a Mr. Isaac Hazlehurst said : 

“ ‘We are here for the purpose of endeavoring 
to preserve the union of these States. ... It 
is not a question of must be preserved, but in the 
language of General Jackson it “shall be pre- 
served.” I say, fellow citizens, that Pennsylvania 
has been true to the Constitution and the Union. 
She has always been loyal to it. There is no doubt 
upon that subject. She has nothing whatever to 
repent of. ... I care not where the traitors 
are — I care not where they hide themselves, the 
first arm that is raised against the Constitution 
and the Union I will bring all that I have to their 


A Story of the South. 217 

defense — all that I have to secure the enforcement 
of the laws/ 

‘‘This last speaker spoke thus about Pennsyl- 
vania, when at the time and long prior, her statute 
books and the actions of her people were in open 
defiance of a national constitution and the national 
Supreme Court decisions on slavery matters.” 

“I can only repeat,” answered Carswell, "that 
since all peace measures ottering only the constitu- 
tion as a compromise have been obstinately rejected 
by the Lincoln party, it is a relief to appeal to the 
arbitrament of arms. So let their armed forces 
come to subjugate us ! We will meet them face 
to face on the battlefield.” 

"Here,” continued Mr. Parks, "is the eloquent 
and strong speech of Eobert Toombs of Georgia 
in the Senate of the United States on January 7, 
1861. South Carolina had seceded on December 
20th previous. Georgia had not seceded. We will 
read this masterpiece some other time, just now I 
will read only the closing words: 

" ‘You will not regard Confederate obligations; 
you will not regard constitutional obligations ; you 
will not regard your oaths. What, then, am I to 
do? Am I a freeman? Is my State a free State? 
We are freemen; we have rights, I have stated 
them. We have wrongs; I have recounted them. 
I have demonstrated that the party now coming 
into power has declared us outlaws and is deter- 
mined to exclude thousands of millions of our 
property from the common territories ; that it has 
declared us under the bann of the Union and out 
of the protection of the laws of the United States 
everywhere. They have refused to protect us 


21 8 


Lorna Carswell. 


from invasion and insurrection by the Federal 
power, and the Constitution denies to us in the 
Union the right either to raise fleets or armies for 
our defense. 

“ ‘All these charges I have proven by the record ; 
and I put them before the civilized world and de- 
mand the judgment of to-day, of to-morrow, of 
distant ages, and of heaven itself upon the justice 
of these causes. I am content whatever it be to 
peril all in so noble, so holy a cause. 

“ ‘We have appealed time and again for these 
constitutional rights; you have refused them. We 
appeal again ! 

“ ‘Bestore us these rights as we had them ; as 
your court adjudges them to be, just as our people 
have said they are: redress these flagrant wrongs 
seen of all men, and it will restore fraternity and 
peace and unity to all of us. 

“ ‘Befuse them, and what then? We shall then 
ask you: “Let us depart in peace.” Befuse that 
and you present us war . 5 

“Mr. Toombs thus at the last moment, as from 
the first, together with Jefferson Davis and Alex- 
ander H. Stephens, earnestly appealed for nothing 
but what the Constitution guaranteed and the 
Supreme Court adjudged. They met with nothing 
at the hands of the Lincoln party but absolute 
denial. The real conspirators against the Union 
went so far as to charge the Southern men with 
conspiracy to disunite the government.” 

At this moment Shelton and his friend George 
Woolridge entered the room. They were just from 
the town, where they had been drilling in a com- 
pany of volunteers. 


219 


A Story of the South. 

The moment Lincoln’s proclamation for troops 
had been flashed over the country, that moment, 
as of one accord, every hamlet, village and town 
in Georgia and throughout the South commenced 
the organization and drilling of volunteer troops. 

The non-slave holding whites volunteer as 
readily as the masters of slaves, because they were 
as firmly opposed to the abolition doctrine of negro 
freedom and equality and negro citizenship and 
negro amalgamation and miscegenation as slave 
owners were. 

A large portion of the people of Georgia owned 
no slaves. But they resented the purposes and 
aggressions of the Republican party under Lincoln 
as bitterly as slave holders did. 

Ninety per cent, of the people of Georgia were 
devoted to the Union if the Northern States would 
comply with their sworn obligations under the 
Constitution. 

We leave Shelton and George in animated dis- 
cussion with Col. Carswell and Mr. Parks. 

Mrs. Carswell sits in the room with Lorna and 
old Marma. There are traces of tears on her face. 
She has heard all the momentous news, and knows 
that husband and son are preparing to leave home 
for scenes of battle and wounds and death. Mr. 
Waller, the overseer, was going, too. The planta- 
tion was to be left in charge of the slaves. The 
wife and mother, the daughter and sister make no 
plea against their going. Their hearts are as full 
of resentment and indignation against the arro- 
gant, aggressive and insulting invading foe as that 
of husband or son, father or brother. But the 
heartache is pitiably terrible. 


220 


Lorna Carswell. 


“Missus, honey,” spoke old Marina, with full 
heart of gold and faithfulness, “we-uns ken teck 
keer o’ you en de chillun, and de running ov de 
crap jess same ez if Mars Eddard here all de time. 
Mose en Jim kin run de place same ez Missur 
Waller. Willis an Hansom will be rite here ter 
look atter de biggus an horses en all de critters. 
Mere’ll boss de kitchen jess de same, and Sukeyll 
sho make dese house niggers sherround soople en 
tidy. An bress you heart, Miss Lorny, mer own 
honey-chile, you knows s’long ez dis black mammy 
live ter potect, dars no harm cornin’ nigh you en 
missus en de chillun. I gwine sleep on a pallet 
right in here across dis do ebbu night marser 
gone.” 

“Oh, mammy, dear,” cried Lorna, between tears 
and laughter, at the same time rushing over and 
sitting like a child in the old black servant’s lap, 
and seizing her wrinkled, withered black hands in 
her own soft white palms. 

“Doan do dat, honey,” huskily whispered the 
slave, “kaze it meek me cry en gin up like. Doan 
you see hit done meek missus cry !” 

When Mrs. Carswell recovered control of her 
voice she spoke gently, lovingly to the faithful 
slave : 

“My dear Marma, your devotion gives new 
courage to my heart in these times of sore trial. 
You have always been as much my sympathizing 
friend as my seivant. Hot only you, but every 
negro on this pla^e would do all that is possible 
to prevent harm earning to me and my children. 
But you, best of all ; and we love you best of all. I 
know the management of the place will run 


A Story of the South. 221 

smoothly, just as you say, and everything be faith- 
fully done. 

“I fear nothing whatever from any source here 
at home. My only fears and anxieties are for the 
safety of my husband and son, exposed to the 
hardship of the march, the camp and the dangers 
of wounds, and perhaps death on the battle field. 
If it were possible I would rather fight side by 
side with them, and share every peril, than be 
left here to suffer heart-breaking anxiety. 

“We must cheer up and bid them good-bye as 
bravely as possible. We can trust in God and pray 
for them and for all the brave boys and men 
who go to fight for our homes and firesides.” 

“Das rite, missus, honey, das de sperit. TJs 
niggers’ll pray fur ’em, too.” 

Amy appeared at the door and announced, 
“Missus, supper raidy,” and hippety-hopped away 
to announce the same message in the parlor. 

Mother and daughter quickly bathed away all 
traces of tears from their faces, and pathetically 
cheerful, went to meet their loved ones at the 
table. 

As the wily Ben washed his Mars Julus’ feet 
that night he was surprisingly mum and gloomy. 
He did not even tickle his young master’s toe a 
single time. 

“What’s the matter, Ben? Has somebody 
caught you doing sumpen you ortem to? Has 
Merc been a brush-brooming your hide ergin? It 
can’t be watermelons, ’cause they ain’t hardly 
tenintytinies yet. Has you killed a bull frog or a 
toad frog ?” 


222 


Lorna Carswell. 


And the young master looked anxiously into 
Ben’s solemn black hatchet face. 

"Wussern all dat, Mars Julus. I’se way down 
in de low grounds o’ sorrer. Yer knows dat taller- 
face John Jackson dey call Lil’ Elic; de one what 
got whupped wid yer in school dat dusty time yer 
tole me about? De one what wear piece er dry 
cow hide under his jacket ? Woosher hadder whole 
hull hide unner mer close some time when Merc 
kotch me ! 

"Mars Julus, iz yer notice dem bresh brooms 
is all new dese days en lots of leafs on dem? I 
gwine tole yer sumpen, if yer swar to nebber tole.” 
"I won’t tell, Ben, you know I won’t.” 

"Well, den, fuss peat atter me, en den I tole yer. 

Say ‘Hoper may die ’ ” 

"Hope I may die — ■” 

"En de debble kotch me — ” 

"And the devil catch me — •” 

"En spokes hant me — ” 

"And spirits haunt me — ” 

"En scrooch owls moan — ■” 

"And screech owls moan — ” 

"En de hoodoo trick me — •” 

"And the hoodoo trick me — ” 

"Ef er ebber tole.” 

"If I ever tell.” 

"Well, den, now I splain. S’long as dars er 
whole passle er leafs whuts green on de bresh dey 
doan hurt; but I hollers all de same, a plikin 
lack mer hide peal. But when leafs dry en drap 
en frash off, den de bresh stung lack pizen snaix, 
en dat holler ai no bluff. So er skuns mer eye 
on em mighty close ebber day ter see wen de leaf 


A Story of the South. 223 

gin ter turn. Dat minit ole bresh is sneak out an 
new bresh snoke in. 

“One day missus seed me brungin new bresh, 
en say prasin lack, kaze I so smart! Lawd, how 
dis nigger grin. Swartergawd, er hatter sift san 
lack skotch raybit way down ter de barn sose er 
kin laff en holler ! 

“Dis all berry well summers, kaze deres plenty 
leafs. Dunno whutfil do winters, eeppen kin fool 
em wid broom straw sweeps stidder bresh/’ And 
Ben mournfully proceeded with the foot washing. 

“Tell you what, Ben, ther’s some kinds of brush 
that have leaves in winter too. But what did you 
start to say about John Jackson?” 

“De Lord hep — dars de rise o’ all mer sorrer ! 
Shorly de worl gwinter en. Dat boy iz little an 
taller face, but he knows a blame sight o ? things 
tubbesho. Ai gwi hab no mo barbycue, no mo 
corn shuekings, no mo milyuns, no mo Nellie wid- 
dins, no mo dancin frolics, no mo cotton an com 
feels, no mo Mars J ulus, no mo nigger Ben, no mo 
nuttin.” 

“Why, Ben, what do you mean ?” 

“Mars Julus, er done tole em er diden blebe it, 
narry word, tweller hearn yer paw and Mars Shel- 
ton low dey gwinter war. Dat soolk weskit, big 
blab-mouth Hansom, he uppen loud' Mars Eddard 
gwine ter war to. Dat taller John say de free 
sotters is coming wid seventy-five hundred bil- 
lions uv armies ter tek de kentry wid swodes en 
guns, an cannons dat’ll shoot touzen mile; endey 
gwi teck all de niggers fum all de marsters, en sont 
us niggers way fum de plantations ter root hogger- 
die. Dat weuns ai gwi own no marser to look 


224 


Lorna Carswell. 


attus work en wide fer ns, but will hatter mek our 
own libbin or starve ter death. Sholy, sholy, Mars 
Julus, tell me hit’s a lie! Whay we gwine, en 
whut’ll us do ? Ef dey sont me off I’ll runnerway 
en come back ter you, I drudder resk dat bresh 
broom winters wid no leafs dan be sont erway.” 

And poor little Ben wept in sorrow and dismay 
at the idea of being separated from his little mas- 
ter and all the protections and comforts of Rural 
Shades. 


A Story of the South. 


2*5 


CHAPTEE XXVI. 

MARS AND CUPID. 

The company of volunteer soldiers therein 
Shelton Carswell and George Woolridge enlisted 
had drilled but a few short weeks, when suddenly 
the order came for it to quickly join its regiment 
in the town and thence be transported by rail to the 
distant green fields of Virginia. 

Shelton’s father had already gone to the front 
as captain of a company in another regiment. Mrs. 
Carswell had bravely bid farewell to her beloved 
husband, and now had to undergo the ordeal of 
parting with her idolized boy. 

What a scene of military activity that old Geor- 
gia town presented on this memorable day in the 
queen month of June ! Burning with resentment 
against and eager to meet the invading foe, the 
soldier volunteers grimly rejoiced when the order 
was announced. 

The beating of drums and strains of martial 
music, the parade of the regiment and the cause 
for which they were to fight, the flying colors, the 
waving handkerchiefs of fair women, the loud 
huzzas of thousands of spectators rendered white 
and black wild with enthusiasm. 


226 


Lorna Carswell. 


Joy and grief, resentment and pain, insult and 
injury, exultation and defiance, pride and heart- 
ache, reigned commingled in every breast. 

The slave owner and the sons of slave owners, 
and the hardy sons of Georgia who never owned a 
slave marched side by side in the ranks, equally 
determined to meet and stay the march of the ar- 
rogant abolition invaders from the North. 

A crowd of negro coachmen and body servants 
whose masters were in the ranks, viewed the scene 
in wondrous delight and sorrowing regret. Our 
dude Hansom was loudest among them. 

“Ha, ha, haw ! heyaw ! hu-ar-r-r ! hi-yi ! Nig- 
gers, jess lookee dar at our Mars Shelton ! He 
tallern de ress by er haid, an de finess lookin soljer 
in dat whole corporosity ! Hoo-ray, Mars Shelton ! 
We-uns braggin on yer! Us knows you’ll do us 
proud an come back a gineral !” 

Shelton smiled as he passed at Hansom’s high 
top beaver waving frantically at arms’ length above 
the faithful slave’s proud black face. 

The envy and admiration of all their fellow- 
servants were the lucky slaves who were going 
with the regiment as body servants of their mas- 
ters. 

Shelton and George had decided to take only one 
between them. Col. Carswell had selected the slave 
for them before he left for the front. 

You remember our good, sober, reliable black 
Jim who married Nellie? Jim, who used to tote 
us on his broad shoulders ’possum hunting in the 
dark woods when ’simmons were ripe in the gaudy, 
beribboned rustling Autumn ! Jim, whose back no 
master’s or overseer’s lash had ever touched in all 


A Story of the South. 227 

his life ! Oh, Jim ! we loved you then, and we will 
love you, please God, forever ! 

Yonder stands Jim, all dyked 1 up in his army 
clothes, proud of the honor conferred on him. Nel- 
lie and Marma are close beside him and are bidding 
him good-bye, for Jim has immediate duties see- 
ing to all his master’s traps and getting them 
safely on the train. 

The last parting words of Marma were for him 
to take care of her boy, Mars Shelton, and bring 
him back home safe. 

The tender hearted Lorna and impulsive Nina 
and sympathetic Lula had worked with Nellie on 
Jim’s outfit with almost as much care and solici- 
tude as they had ministered to the wants of Shel- 
ton and George. Jim was to be with and near their 
loved ones in march and -camp, in sickness or 
wounds or death. They honored and trusted Jim 
implicitly. 

At this crisis in their lives all our young people 
were again together at Rural Shades. Do you re- 
member how on that day mothers and sisters and 
sweethearts waved flags at their soldier boys, hid- 
ing behind the flags the tears that would dim their 
eyes ! And when these soldiers passed out of view, 
how they cried in each other’s arms ! Lorna finds 
herself locked in the embrace of old Aunt Jemmy 
Jones ; Nina and Lula are twined in each other’s 
arms; Marma climbed into the carriage to com- 
fort her mistress. 

While man needs woman’s smiles and cheer, 
her fortitude and self possession are marvelous. 
But so soon as opportunity comes her bravery dis- 
solves in tears. 


228 


Lorna Carswell. 


Nina and Lnla had come to the town horseback, 
attended by Willis as groom. The girls did this 
from love of riding, as well as the desire to give 
Marma and Nellie places in the carriage with Mrs. 
Carswell and Lorna. 

Nina had for weeks previously wrought with 
needle and heart upon a flag to be a surprise to 
Shelton’s company, whenever they marched away. 
The girl had sewn into the silky waves of that 
flag a thousand sweet emotions and anxious heart 
throbs. Now when separation attended by dan- 
ger suddenly came between her and her young 
soldier lover, all coquetry died out of her heart, 
and she whispered to the flag that she loved him ! 
She had placed the flag in the carriage, wrapped 
upon its staff, and the dearest event of this day to 
her was to present it and see Shelton’s company 
march with it at their head. 

In her excitement the flag was forgotten; they 
had passed without it, and were now distant up 
the long wide street in the midst of the 
regiment. Without thought or pause this 
girl of impulse thrust Lula aside, rushed to 
the carriage, shouting to Willis to bring her horse, 
and snatching the flag, was in the saddle and away, 
almost at a dead run, down the thoroughfare lined 
all the way with thousands. The flag unfurled 
and trailed back, a flash of stars and bars, amid 
a deafening roar of cries and cheers. When she 
rushed like a comet by the rear of the regiment 
the thunderous greeting of the soldiers almost 
caused her to lose presence of mind. Blind to 
everything for the moment except the object in 
view, the horse and rider and flashing silken folds 


A Story of the South. 229 

reached Shelton’s company just as the command 
of “halt” was given. 

“Here, Shelton !” cried the excited girl, “where 
is your captain? Here is the flag for you soldiers 
of Dixie !” 

Shelton, the captain, George, and a dozen others 
broke from the ranks toward the beautiful girl to 
receive the flag, while butternut hats and caps 
filled the air, and cheer after cheer rolled up and 
down the extended ranks of gray. Before any one 
could express thanks — with the hurrying idea of 
only getting away — with peach-flushed cheeks our 
young lady sped back down the line, while strains 
of Dixie were drowned in the roar of cheers ! 

The wondering Willis received the spirited 
horse, and the girl hid in the carriage, crying and 
sobbing in Mrs. Carswell’s arms. 

To get away from the hundreds crowding nearer 
to see again the girl of the flag, Mrs. Carswell bade 
Hansom drive off towards the suburbs of the town. 

Meantime Shelton had obtained permission of 
absence for one hour, escaped in the prolonged en- 
thusiasm, and hurried to Willis, looking in vain 
for Hina or the Carswell carriage. 

ff Willis ! Where is Miss Howell ?” 

“Deed sar. Misses done gwine tuck her in de 
kaige down disherway, sar! Yassar!” 

“Give me your horse.” 

“Yasser, here he, stirps jess rite, yer laigs long 
ez mine, Mars Shelton! Wo, Caesar! Dar yer is 
— oo-oomph! how soople e ride! Jess zackley 
lack I newster gwine see mer Loo when dat quile 
wuz singin hallylooyah !” 

“Oh, dear Mrs. Carswell! Have I done any- 


230 


Lorna Carswell. 


thing wrong or unladylike, or rendered myself 
conspicuously ridiculous?” sobbed Nina in 
wretched distress, as the carriage rolled slowly on. 

“No, dear; every soldier who saw you feels his 
heart nerved to brave deeds in defense of such 
patriotic girls as you left behind.” 

But Nina would not be comforted. She knew 
from memories of that snowy hill top that Christ- 
mas holiday, that Shelton loved her. Since then 
she was guilty of baffling and toying with his evi- 
dent devotion. 

Blessings brighten as they fade; and now he 
was called away to tight the battles of his country, 
in danger of being lost to her forever, and never 
to know that he was indeed so dearly loved in re- 
turn ! How could she let him leave her so — it was 
dread agony and breaking her heart ! 

And that wild ride to him with the flag — what 
would he think of her? Did all those people see 
by this how she loved him ! So in heart-sore morti- 
fication, poor Nina only sobbed and sighed the 
more as Shelton’s darling mother tried gently to 
soothe her. 

Just then the carriage was stopped, and Mrs. 
Carswell was surprised and delighted to lovingly 
welcome Shelton to a seat beside her. 

Nina gave one hasty glance, and her sweet face 
burning in rosy blushes, was all the more hid in 
Mrs. Carswell’s arms. 

“Nina, dear,” said Shelton, “have you no word 
nor look for me ? In one short hour I am to leave 
you, and now I come to ” 

He was interrupted by such heartbreaking sobs 
from the bowed* head of the woman he would 


231 


A Story of the South. 

readily sacrifice his life for, that he seized her 
hands and gently tried to raise the dear head as it 
lay buried on his mother’s arm. 

“Nina, darling, you do love me at last !” 

“Yes I do, and you know it, the whole town has 
seen, and I hate myself, and everybody is laughing 
at me !” quickly and savagely wailed our flag hero- 
ine. 

“Give her to me, mother dear ! She is mine !” 

This girl of surprises then suddenly, to the be- 
wildering happiness of Shelton, raised her radiant 
face, kissed Mrs. Carswell, and seeing Shelton 
dangerously near her rosy lips, threw two loving 
arms around his bending neck and kissed him into 
the seventh heaven, wherever that is ! 

Mrs. Carswell laughed and cried in joy equal 
almost to her son’s hounding heart throbs. 

“Oh, Nina, darling! I have found you and all 
your pure wealth of love only to bid you farewell !” 

We leave the soldier boy to the last lingering 
fond caresses of his Love and his Mother, as the 
short hour of bliss, mingled with pain of parting, 
rolled remorselessly by. 

The music and marching ceased as the soldiers 
are halted in front of the grand stand, where 
Robert Toombs, renowned and favorite son of the 
South and of his native State of Georgia is to 
deliver an address before the troops are marched to 
the waiting trains. 

The large throng of citizens and attendant slaves 
crowd up near and around. Hundreds of fair 
women sit in open carriages and wagons of every 
description in sight and hearing of the speakers’ 
stand. Every phase of Georgia society and life is 


232 Lorna Carswell. 

represented — the rich, the poor, the great, the 
small. 

Together sit the wife of the owner of broad 
plantations and a hundred or more slaves — her 
son a soldier in yonder ranks — and some poorer 
wife or widow who owns no slaves, whose son is 
also there. A common sympathy makes them 
close akin as they discuss their boys in gray. The 
richer mother secretly vows that her poorer neigh- 
bor shall not suffer want while her son is fighting 
side by side with the other’s son in their beloved 
country’s cause. 

Yonder is clustered a score and more of kind 
hearted old plantation negro men w T ho have come 
to see their elder or younger master, or both 
off to the war. These trustworthy slaves are to be 
the stay and prop and management of the plan- 
tations while master is away in march and camp 
and battle. 

It was pathetic to note the last warm grasp 
of white hand with black as the master speaks a 
friendly good-bye and tears moisten the black 
faces at the parting. 

Faithful, trustworthy slaves! G-od and history 
know how well you, and all your color kept the 
faith reposed in you during all those years of car- 
nage and death. 

Whether masters returned, or whether they died 
in distant prison or were killed in battle, there 
is not recorded against you any wrong or evil 
toward your white mistress or her children and 
property, left in thousands of instances solely in 
your care and under your protection. 

And while the enemy’s guns and his ships were 


233 


A Story of the South. 

often in hearing or sight of yon on the border and 
along a thousand miles of navigable waters and 
seaboard, and inducements of freedom were held 
out to you to desert your owner and your charge, 
yet you remained true and faithful ! 

The desertions on your part were rare exceptions, 
so long as the plantations were not overrun and 
destroyed by the invading hosts. Your conduct 
was a living, stinging rebuke, all those evil years, 
to those abolitionists of the North who had for 
many years tried, and who still endeavored, to ex- 
cite you to insurrection, arson, desertion and mur- 
der. We have often wondered, in view of all the 
facts, whether or not any rebuke or twinge of con- 
science ever smote the breast of a Stowe, a Sum- 
ner, a Beecher, or any one of their higher-law and 
irrepressible conflict converts in church or State. 

In this year 1901, like the old veterans of the 
Blue and Gray, the ranks of the old plantation 
slave are fast thinning under death’s remorseless 
scythe. The polite, true, law-abiding, God-serving 
ante-bellum plantation negro will soon live only 
in history. While there are many excellent, re- 
liable and progressive negro citizens to-day, highly 
respected throughout the South, yet a very large 
and startling percentage of his color, born since 
emancipation and growing up without wholesome 
or moral restraint, are a thousand times more the 
violators of good manners, morals, and human 
and divine law, than his race was under slavery 
prior to 1865. 

0, ye abolitionists and politicians, who for so 
many years posed before the world as so full of* 
painful solicitude, and who apparently suffered 


234 


Lorna Carswell. 


so much agony of heart vicariously for negro race 
as slaves; now is your opportunity to save from 
immorality, degradation and crime the resultants 
of your furious agitation. 

Spend now one-tenth of what you did' formerly 
to incite discontent and insurrection in establish- 
ing missions, Sunday schools and churches. Have 
the heads of the different denominations weed out 
the thousands of ignorant, dawdling, lazy, non-pro- 
gressive drones who infest the pulpits of so many 
colored churches; dismiss forever the impossible 
doctrine of social equality of the two races in the 
South ; have the negro trained to habits of obedi- 
ence, morality, honesty and industry while he is 
young; teach him no false social and political 
ideas ; train him in wholesome principles of virtue 
and truth and self respect, and to have some pur- 
pose and some worthy ambition in life suited to 
his capacity or possibilities; teach him some re- 
gard for the sacredness of human life, some re- 
gard for truth and honesty in business obligations, 
some feeling of shame and disgrace under con- 
victions of crime; teach him thus to realize that 
all officers of law and order are not his enemies, 
but are his protectors. 

The South has taxed itself millions for his edu- 
cation for apparently very little good effects. Im- 
morality and crime increase among his race. Jails 
and convict camps are fearfully and increasingly 
full of these unfortunates. 

His incapacity for self-government, or for even 
participating in politics, or for controlling evil 
passions, is becoming so pronounced that a large 
majority of his race will soon become practically 


235 


A Story of the South. 

disfranchised in every State where they exist in 
large numbers. Too many negro parents to-day 
still teach their children the false prejudice and 
racial hate instilled by the heartless carpet-hag 
politician in the mind of their parents during 
reconstruction days. 

If the missionary spirit of the churches, North 
and South, would worry less about the distant dis- 
ciples of Buddhism and Confucius, of Hottentot 
and Fiji, or other foreign nondescripts, and spend 
their labors of love and their resources more upon 
the moral training of the negro and the foreign 
races living and growing and increasing among us 
here at home, crime and anarchy would decrease, 
and the number of benighted souls saved would in- 
crease. 

But we are again reversing the thread of this 
true story, and return to that memorable day in 
June, 1861, in that old Georgia town. 

As Robert Toombs appeared on the platform he 
was greeted by such earnest outbursts of acclama- 
tion, that his strong, massive features flushed and 
his lustrous eyes kindled with latent emotion. 
He appeared serious and grave almost to sadness, 
but strong and determined. At first he spoke 
slowly and deliberately, hut as the subject ap- 
pealed so deeply to his feelings, he soon launched 
boldly on in such a flood-tide of reason, logic and 
eloquence, that the large throng was swayed and 
thrilled by his power. A part of his speech was in 
substance as follows: 

"Ladies, soldiers, and fellow citizens : Our fore- 
fathers of the Revolution declared dissolution from 
the British Crown on the plea that whenever any 


236 


Lorna Carswell. 


form of Government became destructive of the 
ends for which it was established, it is the right of 
the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute 
a new Government. 

“Under the Articles of Confederation the war of 
the Revolution was fought, resulting in the thir- 
teen original colonies being recognized as inde- 
pendent States. 

“In 1787, to form a more perfect Union and se- 
cure domestic tranquillity, the Constitution of the 
United States was framed. When it became so 
amended that the powers not delegated to the 
United States, nor prohibited by it to the States, 
are reserved to the States respectively, it was in 
good faith adopted by the States. 

“The law of compact, wherein the obligation is 
mutual was thus a fundamental principle of this 
constitution. The failure of one of the contract- 
ing parties to perform a material part of the agree- 
ment releases the obligation of the other. 

“Fourteen of the free labor States have refused 
for years to fulfil their constitutional obligations 
under a stipulation material to the compact. This 
stipulation was so material, that without it, the 
Constitution would never have been adopted by 
the slave States. 

“The General Government enacted laws pursu- 
ant to these stipulations of the States, which laws, 
for many years, were freely acceded to and exe- 
cuted. Through hostility against slavery, the free 
States have rebelled against material and express 
stipulations of the Constitution and have enacted 
statutes which nullify the Acts of Congress, in 
flagrant disregard of their sworn obligations. 


237 


A Story of the South. 

“Instead of acting as brethren in securing do- 
mestic peace and tranquillity, these States have for 
years assumed the right of deciding upon the pro- 
priety of our domestic institutions; have denied 
the rights of property in fifteen of the States ; have 
openly cherished and fostered societies among 
them whose avowed object is to disturb the peace 
and eloign the property of citizens of other States ; 
have encouraged and assisted thousands of our 
slaves to leave their homes, and endeavored to in- 
cite those who remained to servile insurrection, 
arson, rapine and murder in the midst of our 
homes and firesides. 

“A sectional combination for the subversion of 
the Constitution, composed wholly of non-slave- 
holding States, has elected a party into power 
whose public declarations are for the ultimate ex- 
tinction of slavery. This party has announced 
that the South shall be excluded from the com- 
mon territory, and has proclaimed outlawry 
against thousands of millions of the property of 
the slave-holding States. 

“From the beginning of this strife until the 
forced disruption of the Union the South has not 
demanded a single thing except that the North 
shall abide by the Constitution of the United 
States. 

“The rights claimed by the South are affirmed 
by the highest judicial tribunals of their country ; 
rights older than the Constitution; rights which 
are planted upon the immutable principles of 
natural justice ; rights which have been affirmed by 
the good and the wise of all countries and of all 
centuries. We demand no power to injure any man. 


Lorna Carswell. 


238 

We demand no right to injure our Confederate 
States of the North. We demand no right to in- 
terfere with their institutions by word or deed. 
We have no right to disturb their peace, their 
tranquillity, their security. We have demanded 
of them simply, solely — nothing else — to give us 
equality, security, and tranquillity. Give us 
these, and peace restores itself. 

“They scoff at our rights, and consider our de- 
mands as those of an extremist. I believe that is 
the appellation these traitors employ. I accept 
their reproach rather than their principles. Ac- 
cepting their designation of treason and rebellion, 
there stands before you to-day as good a traitor 
and as good a rebel as ever descended from Revo- 
lutionary loins! 

“We have as much right as they to emigrate and 
settle in the present or any future acquired terri- 
tories, with whatever property we possess, includ- 
ing slaves, and be protected in its peaceable enjoy- 
ment until such territory be admitted as a State, 
with or without slavery, as it may determine. We 
have fought for this territory when blood was its 
price. We have paid for it when gold was its 
price. We do not propose to exclude them, though 
they have contributed very little of either blood 
or money. I refer especially to New England. 

“Neither do we propose to limit or restrain the 
right belonging to every State to prohibit, or 
abolish, or to establish and protect slavery within 
its limits. 

“We demand of the common government to use 
its granted powers to protect our property as well 
as that of the Northern States. Ought it not to 


239 


A Story of the South. 

do so ? The Lincoln party say no. Every one of 
them on every committee appointed to adjust this 
unnatural strife said no. All their Senators said 
no. Their Representatives said no. Throughout 
the length and breadth of their conspiracy against 
the Constitution there was but one shout of no ! 

“Soldiers! They name you as traitors and 
rebels because, as the price of your obedience, you 
demand, under the Constitution, that persons com- 
mitting crimes against slave property in one State, 
and fleeing to another, shall be delivered up in the 
same manner as persons committing crimes against 
other property, and that the laws of the State from 
which such persons flee shall be the test of crim- 
inality. 

“Their Governors swear to support the Con- 
stitution, but their oaths do not bind them. 
Treacherous to their oaths and compacts, they have 
steadily refused, if the criminal only stole a negro 
slave, to deliver up the criminal or the slave. Yet 
these are our Confederates — these are our sister 
States. There is the bargain; there is the com- 
pact. You have sworn to it, these governors swore 
to it. You cannot bind them by oaths. Yet they 
talk to us of treason ! 

“Again, soldiers and fellow countrymen, you are 
called traitors, because, as the price of your alle- 
giance, you demand that fugitive slaves shall be 
surrendered in accordance with the written Con- 
stitution. 

“When the South demanded that Congress 
should pass efficient laws for the punishment of all 
persons, in any of the States, who shall, in any 
manner, aid and abet invasion or insurrection in 


2/JO 


Lorna Carswell. 


any other State, we met with nothing hut jeers and 
gibes at the hands of the Lincoln party and its 
press. Foreign nations, Cuba, Honduras, Nica- 
ragua, get the benefit of this protection at the 
hands of this nation, but these Southern States 
cannot. We are worse off in the Union in this re- 
spect than if we were out of it. 

“Now our enemies can come among us; raids 
may he made, the incendiary’s torch put to our 
dwellings, as was the case for hundreds of miles on 
the frontier of Texas ; but they may do what J ohn 
Brown did, and when the miscreants escape to 
their States they will not punish them, they will 
not deliver them up. Therefore we stand defense- 
less. We must cut loose from the accursed T>ody 
of this death,’ even to get the benefits of the law 
of nations. They now present us war, and we 
accept it! We are forced to put our trust in the 
blood of the brave, and our reliance upon the God 
of Battles, for security and tranquillity. 

“By their own sins of commission and of omis- 
sion they drive us to the necessity of secession, or 
perilous and ignominious subjection, then cry 
aloud treason ! rebel ! traitor ! 

“They add insult to injury by declaring an 
irrepressible conflict until our slaves shall not only 
be taken from us, but shall be placed on a social 
and political equality with the whites of the 
South. 

“Even now they are preparing and attempting 
to invade our sister States with a large army to 
enforce upon our people by the power of might and 
of the sword a degrading subjugation. 

“Soldiers! You are called upon to resist to the 


2 A I 


A Story of the South. 

death this unhallowed fratricidal invasion. Let 
not the blood of yonr Revolutionary sires have been 
shed in vain, nor the labors of Washington, Jeffer- 
son, Adams and Madison come to naught through 
the vagaries, the errors, the higher law theories, of 
such men as the Lincolns, Sewards, Sumners, 
Greeleys and Beechers. 

“When this storm shall have passed, by the re- 
buke and overthrow of these conspirators against 
the Constitution, then all true and patriotic lovers 
of this Grand Bepublic, North as well as South, 
will unite with us in perpetuating the Union of 
States as the builders of the Constitution intended 
and clearly stated.” 

The regiment is gone. The crowd gradually 
disperses. Men, women and children, white and 
black, return to their homes. Some are merry, 
many are sad. All who have some loved one in 
that regiment pathetically try to cheer each the 
other. 

Three little boys, Julian, John Jackson and 
Ben, scrouge close together on the outside back 
seat of the carriage as it rolls along the hills and 
vales toward Rural Shades. 

Marma is inside with the inistress and Loma 
and little Teln. Nellie sits beside Hansom on the 
driver’s seat. Lula and Nina ride horseback some 
distance behind, and Willis, at & respectful dis- 
tance, brings up the rear. 

The rare beauty of a Southern June glorifies 
every leaf and forest and flower and field. The 
sun is low in the west, and soft shadows and mel- 
low shafts of sunlight beribbon the winding road. 
Here on the right in grove of ancient oak silently 


242 


Lorna Carswell. 


points heavenward the spire of the old church, 
wherein for so many years masters and slaves have 
together worshipped God and sung His praise. Do 
you remember the strange, trusting, wondrous 
thrill of heart and soul when, as a child, you lis- 
tened ! 

Now the carriage reaches the top of a swelling 
hill in the midst of a big plantation of young cot- 
ton and corn and wheat. Across the shadowy val- 
ley upon the upward stretching slope beyond you 
behold each feature of the beautiful landscape pic- 
tured in soft, golden green by the mellow rays of 
the low sun. The daylight is dying in the valley, 
and the shadows of evening climb the hillside 
until the last shaft of rosy sunlight lovingly lin- 
gers upon the topmost forest and then disappears. 

The early dusk deepens to twilight, and now 
you see faintly and timidly appear here and there 
the glimmering twinkle of a star far away in the 
fading blue above. Thousands of other stars 
gently appear, until at last millions sparkle like 
diamonds over the vast dome of night. You imag- 
ine them the bright eyes of angels of light, guard- 
ing throughout their appointed time the destinies 
of the children of men. 

With a sobbing sigh you see the lights of the 
dear old home appear. Your boy-heart is full of 
nameless sorrow, and this coming home makes you 
want to cry. Your papa is gone. Your buddie 
Shelton is gone ! Your friend George is gone ! 
Your dear old Jim is gone! You want to nestle 
close to mama as in babyhood days. You want 
to kiss dearest sweetest sis Lorna and tell her how 
much you love her. 


243 


A Story of the South. 

Disconsolately yon reach the lighted hall, when 
pretty Nina Howell sees your grieving lips and 
twines loving arms around you and kisses you in 
speechless silence. This is the last straw, and you 
two are having a sadly loving cry together. Lula 
then comes upon the scene and takes you both in 
her arms, and like Mobe, weeps over you. Then 
Sis Loma joins hands and tears with Lula and 
soothes all like the spirit of Hope. Then, to your 
everlasting shame for such weakness, John and 
Ben stop at the end of the hall and gaze at you. 
John looks on pretending stolid contempt, but his 
eyes blink. The day has been too much for poor 
black Ben, and he literally lifts up his voice and 
howls lots of weeps between snicker-sner sobs. 

Then the girls, crying and laughing together, 
take Ben to the pantrv and load him down with 
good things to eat. The shower clears and all is 
fair weather again, at least kinder sorter so. 

John and Ben are waiting for Julian in his 
room that night, after this most exciting day of 
their lives. 

“Er-errer, say, John! Yer reckin our folks ’ll 
whoop dem bolishers, sos us niggers won’t hatter 
root hoggerdie ?” 

“Well, Ben,” said the wise, deliberate John im- 
pressively, “I’ll tell you my honest-in jun opinion 
about the whole kerflummux. You know I am not 
easily bumfuddled nor bamboozled, hey?” 

“Er nebber knowed yer bumblebeed or bundled- 
foddered nary time, en dat’s er fax sho !” answered 
the admiring Ben. 

“You saw me to-day, Ben, as I beat and bam 


244 


Lorna Carswell. 


along and ciphered round and sampled through 
that army o’ soldiers ?” 

“Yas-sar-ree ! Er skunt mer eyes onto yer, en 
yer wussent skaid nary wink !” 

“Certainly not. Them soldiers is fightin stock, 
and every one of them knows how to shoot.” 

“Yasser ! Er knows Mars Shelton en Mars 
George kin, kaze er wuz widdem one ehenin late 
down by de cuppen when dey wuz shootin male- 
bats, en dey fotch er hat mos ebber shoot.” 

“Well, Yankees is higgern bull-bats, and they 
can’t fly, so that question is settled. But, as I was 
saying, I peruzled over and prowled through that 
regiment. I tell you, Ben, all the abolish in crea- 
tion can’t whip ’em ! You may just as well rest 
easy no matter how catterscattered they tacken 
’em ! You may just as well be ready for the next 
corn-shucking and barbecue, and study brush 
brooms. Them soldiers will play holy woggus 
with the whole free-nigger business.” 


A Story of the South. 


245 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

HOW A CAROLINIAN SURRENDERED. 

"I surrendered to that Yankee twenty-five times 
in ten minutes, and then he wouldn’t stop and 
take me. Kept right on off and left me ! He is a 
fine-looking fellow. D — d if I thought there was 
a single abolitionist North like him! How in 
thunder, captain, did you people capture him ?” 

The speaker was a slim, sun-tanned, hut strik- 
ingly handsome young South Carolinian. His 
vivacity evidenced French descent. His appear- 
ance indicated careless wealth, education, bril- 
liancy, audacity, good humor, — but marred some- 
what at his twenty-six years by fast living. 

The scene was in Captain Edward Carswell’s 
tent one evening in Virginia following a sharp 
skirmish battle. 

The “Yankee” in question had been taken pris- 
oner by Carswell’s men. His polite, dignified 
bearing won the admiration of his captors. 

“Tell us first how it was you surrendered to him 
so many times ?” asked Carswell, interested. 

“Well, you see, captain, to-day was my first ex- 
perience under fire. Ahem ! That blame brute 
of a horse I ride is race stock with a pedigree and 
he got rattled. 


246 


Lorna Carswell. 


“You see, our cavalry was held in reserve. When 
we were ordered to charge, and when in a fast gal- 
lop, I took my pistol from the holster to see sure 
it was in prime order. Somehow the thing went 
off and my horse went off with a bullet hole 
through one of his ears ! He just took the bit in 
his teeth, and run like a scared deer, and there I 
was charging alone the whole Yankee army ! I 
heard the boys way behind laughing and yelling, 
but my teetotal attention was given to stopping the 
demon runaway horse. I was not seeking death at 
the cannon’s mouth like Shakespeare’s fourth age 
of man. 

“When the guns flamed right in front of me the 
mad brute dashed like a sleuth hound to the left, 
and in about a pair of minutes had flanked the 
enemy, and was on a dead run towards Washing- 
ton, right into Abraham’s bosom for all I knew. 

“Of course I didn’t know that by that time the 
enemy was retreating. My sole aim and purpose 
then and there in life was to surrender, if the 
blame horse would only consider the situation a 
moment and give me time. I passed some blue 
uniform stragglers and waved my white handker- 
chief as we shot by at railroad speed, but they 
seemed to be in too much of a hurry themselves to 
honor me with any moment of their attention. 

“Just then I caught sight of this same big, fine- 
looking blue-coat you now hold as a prisoner. He 
was about one hundred yards ahead, going full gal- 
lop, same direction I was flying. I waved the 
white flag frantically at him and hollered, T sur- 
render, I surrender ! Stop ! Stop !’ But he kept 
right on. Then I yelled, ‘Somebody head us two 


A Story of the South. 247 

damn fools. I surrender !’ He didn’t even turn 
his head. I was gaining on him rapidly and knew 
I’d soon be a goner. He looked big as Goliath, 
two tremendous pistols in his holster and a whop- 
ping saber at his side. By George! He looked 
like the magazine picture of Hapoleon at Auster- 
litz, or the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo, or 
Washington crossing the Delaware ! As I rushed 
close up to him my handkerchief wiggle-waggle- 
woggled a few thousand geometrical angles, and I 
hollered ‘I surrender!’ at every jump of mv wild 
horse. 

“My carbine had loosened its moorings and was 
slanging right and left, pounding me and the 
horse. Just as I reached him and expected to he 
made a sieve of by his perforating bullets, my horse 
dashed between two trees, and that whing-whang- 
in-carbine knocked me off a stem-windin. As I 
hit the ground flat on my back, the last thing I 
remember is reaching up and waving that white 
token and saying as loud as possible ‘I surrender ! 
Don’t shoot!’ Beckon must have fainted. Don’t 
know how long. Finally when my eyes opened, 
there stood my big Yankee calmly looking down at 
me. I made a motion to wave and feebly mut- 
tered again, *1 surrender.’ 

“You can imagine my hurt feelings, captain, 
when you fellows laughed so at me, and I realized 
that my awful Napoleon-Wellington prototype was 
your prisoner! Say, Jake,” to his tickled-to death 
servant at the tent-door, “you barrel-whacked, 
box-ankled black rascal ! Stop that, I say, and go 
to my tent for a box of cigars and a bottle of wine 
here, quick.” 


Lorna Carswell. 


248 

Jake disappeared, still grinning and suppressing 
his mirth the best he could. “I say, captain ! 
Won’t you do me a favor? Invite my big Yankee 
right here now ! I would like to share that wine 
and cigars with him and drink his health ! I can 
see by his insignia of rank that he is colonel of the 
regiment.” 

Carswell consented, sent a polite invitation to 
the prisoner — which was accepted — and soon 
Georgia and Massachusetts and South Carolina 
were greeting each other in mutual politeness as 
host and guest. 

The Carolinian amused and charmed the pris- 
oner guest by recounting the “surrender” inci- 
dent. This, with CarswelTs considerate kindness, 
soon put all parties at ease. Captors and prisoner, 
who only a few hours before had been shooting at 
each other, soon formed a mutual admiration so- 
ciety. 

The war had already caused some heavy fight- 
ing, with success about equal on both sides. Blue 
and gray had discovered enemies, each in the other, 
not to be lightly despised. 

When Jake appeared at the tent opening with 
the wine and cigars he was yet so full of uncon- 
trollable mirth that he hesitated to risk himself 
inside. 

His young master saw him — understood his pre- 
dicament — and hiding a smile and merry twinkle 
of eyes, ordered his black servant in in such a 
despotic style as made the Yankee guest look up 
in pained surprise. 

The apparent despotism tickled Jake all the 
more, and as he viewed the big prisoner and his 


A Story of the South. 249 

small master and thought again of that sur- 
render, he lost control. To save his life, good man- 
ners and all, J ake could not help dissolving into a 
convulsive roar of laughter. The guest was equally- 
surprised at the slave’s temerity in presence of his 
superiors. 

“Skuse me, Marse an Cappen, an-an Misser 
S’render-Boss ! Kaze jiss cai hep it ! Swarter- 
gawd, nebber in sich er fix sence me en marser dun 
hatter gwinter jail tegedder in Charleston dat time 
he got de ligion !” 

“Tell us how that was, Jake?” asked Carswell. 

The negro looked deprecatingly at his young 
master, not daring to tell tales out of school. 

“0 go ahead and fire away, you black blather- 
skite curmudgeon of a rapscallion ! If the captain 
and our guest here give you permission it’s all 
right.” 

Jake politely handed the box of cigars round, 
held a lighted match for each, and stood near the 
door as if ready to jump out and run if necessary. 
Then, first looking quizzically at his master, he 
began : 

“Mattercose yer knows dat our plantation in de 
kentry outsidern Charleston. Ole masser daiden- 
gone longergo, en young masser here bossin us 
niggers endurin he absence. 

“Missus, whats he ma, orful ligious, en grebe 
mighty heap an powful kaze young masser ? ain 
done went an gone an gwine jine de chetch. 

“Bombye big holy meetin come shoutin long an 
sot down in de big meetinouse rite slap nigh our 
diggins. Hull kentry dar ebber night — white 
5 scrats, black crows, po trash en all. Masser’s 


250 


Lorna Carswell. 


swetart den wuz great on ligion too, en cede wid- 
dim tend de meetin. You members her, masser? 
Dat fine quality Miss Queeny Pinkston whut at- 
terward married dat hansum young Mass Rut- 
ledge.” 

“0 the devil, Jake, leave Rutledge out!” 

“Yassee — Count o’ gwine wid Miss Queeny e 
tend strictly ter meetin an gun ter git ligion lack- 
wise. He ma en all on em pet an suage im twill 
e up an jine. Enne plack de kerrecter so nattul 
yer coulden tell im fum er gennywine saint ! 

“But e woulden say prars in meetin yit, en dat 
mek he ma an Miss Queeny en her ma sorrer lack. 

“Yer needen kallate young massa skaird kaze 
e s’render. Wen de horse runaway frightful wid- 
dim an Miss Queeny, and de line breck, masser 
stan up an jump fum de buggy rite on top de 
horse, grab rein en stop im ! Dat horse gwine 
fassern de one what runaway dis day. 

“Cole wedder den — meetinouse het up wid big 
stoves. Dis tickler ebenin jiss fo gwine ter chetch, 
masser brace up wid bottle dat ere same French 
wine. 

“Wenne got dar de sperence an slam singin an 
prars an shoutin wuz full swing. He walk rite up 
en sot down twix he ma an Miss Queeny. Bom- 
bye heat o’ de chetch warm im up, an e git happy, 
an look at Miss Queeny so mazin lovin she sho e 
got ligion. Wen dey call on summon to pray 
masser stonish em all wid de mos all-ober-glory- 
prar dis nigger ebber listen ! 

“Den everybody want to hug masser! He naa 
cry en hug im — Miss Queeny ma cry en hug im — 
Miss Queeny herself hug im! He wuz weepin 


A Story of the South. 251 

tears o’ joy an huggin everbody e could retch, cep- 
pen e retch Miss Queeny mo dan all.” 

“ J ake ! J ust let up on Miss Queeny, will you. 
Leave her out, too.” 

“Yasser — Sho ! But bout dis time ole Buck 
Smith, de loudess shoutin an holiess saint, come 
cross de chetch topen de benches, clappen e hans 
an hollerin glory, areshin fer masser wid open 
arms. Dis de man what stole masser’s fine brag 
ginnypig. All on us knowd e stole em. So wen 
ole Smith try snatch im fum Miss — fum de res on 
em — ter de scandel 0 all he rite den and dere 
cuss Smith mazin ez er d — d ole hog teef, en try 
ter cut im all ter pieces wid e knife ! He ligion 
nebber gom stent o’ huggin dat ole hog teef. De 
meetin all breck up.” 

Jake saw regretful memories in his young mas- 
ter’s face, and did not dare to tell the going to 
jail episode. 

Carswell was surprised to find such thoughtful 
men of the North as his prisoner evidently was, 
fighting their sister States in a fanatic abolition 
cause, ignoring the Constitution. This man from 
Massachusetts, to his surprise, appeared honest, 
square and sincere and brave and fully conversant 
in the political history of the nation. The mu- 
tual good will of the present occasion emboldened 
him to ask his guest a distinct personal question. 

“Colonel, are you of that political class we of 
the South call abolitionists?” 

“No, captain, myself nor any one of my family 
is of that class. I voted for Douglas.” 

Carswell looked his astonishment and became 


252 Lorna Carswell. 

silent and thoughtful. Then politely, but with 
deep feeling, he asked: 

“Then why are you here fighting against us ?” 

The prisoner looked his host earnestly in the 
face a moment and slowly answered: 

“From my point of view the Constitution does 
not contemplate independent sovereignty of a 
State to the extent of secession. The edifice of our 
government is builded upon pillars called States. 
If the pillars are permitted to withdraw at will the 
fabric must fall. Its preservation, therefore, de- 
pends upon the union of all the States, the with- 
drawal of none. Upon this union preserved all 
our hopes of greatness as a nation depend. 

“This union is dearer to the conservative ele- 
ment at the North than any mere State rights.. 
The only sovereign power rests in the central gov- 
ernment, The States are, and must be, subordi- 
nate else the Eepublic perishes. 

“The importance of union looms up far and 
above any question of abolitionism. We cannot 
permit individual or partisan demagogism in the 
North or in the South, or in both combined, to 
bring about its disintegration. For its preserva- 
tion I, and all like me, throughout the North, will 
risk that which is dear to every man, his life. 

“It is needless to discuss all of the unwise clash 
of opinions, whether just or unjust, or merely fa- 
natical, and the unfortunate events, which com- 
bined have precipitated this unhappy conflict. 
Doubtless on many points I would agree with you. 
Your provocations have been great, your claims in 
many respects are right and just. But permit me 
to add that you of the South have acted hastily in 


253 


A Story of the South. 

this matter of secession. Yon take this moment- 
ous step as though all the unwise and unconstitu- 
tional threats and assertions of merely an abolition 
party in politics were accomplished facts. 

“As long as you remained in the union to try all 
questions of difference in the forum of reason and 
by the ballot, myself and my class were co-operat- 
ing with you. 

“What if Lincoln was elected; could he under 
all the wholesome restrictions of the government, 
carry into effect the threats and desires or vapid 
assertions of many of his supporters? Why not 
wait for some real overt act on the part of the ad- 
ministration ? 

“When you attempt to forestall threatened ills 
by secession, and thus, if successful, dissolve the 
union of States, you become the enemies of the 
Republic. My creed is to preserve the union at all 
hazards, and adjust all political differences inside 
and not outside. 

“The mere babble and blowings of demagogues 
on either side should not affect the course of the 
ship of state.” 

Carswell had listened most attentively to each 
word and sentence of his prisoner and sat deeply 
pondering. 

The Carolinian now asked : 

“But, sir, you surely do not agree with the class 
of our enemies who not only would free our slave 
property by force, hut would add insult to injury 
by forcing the negro upon us as our political and 
social equals ? 

“The South would fight through a war every 
generation through unlimited ages before it would 


254 


Lorna Carswell. 


submit to a forced negro social equality with its 
attendant repulsive incidents.” 

“In answer I will say that, from merely a po- 
lemic standpoint I regard slavery as a detriment to 
any white race that would live and hold its place 
among other Caucasian nations. The system is 
subversive to a republic, and has no counterpart in 
any other nation of modern times. I believe this 
is the sentiment that — modified according to na- 
ture and temperament, and mixed with selfish mo- 
tives or ignorant methods — is, after all, the deep 
consciousness of the people. 

“In my opinion the North has no lawful right 
to interfere with or molest this or any other class 
of your property. Nor am I of that extreme party 
of zealots who contend the negro race is created 
equal in all respects to the white race. 

“As to the forcing social equality of the two 
races upon the nation, either North or South, the 
idea is but an unbalanced fanatic’s distorted 
vision.” 

The interview closed. When the prisoner guest 
retired the Georgian said to the Carolinian : 

. “This war assumes more terrible and gigantic 
proportions. That prisoner and his prototypes 
represent the main strength of the North in this 
struggle. We have been sorely exasperated and 
bitterly aggravated into the belief that all the vir- 
tue, intelligence, sincerity and patriotism of the 
country were on the South’s side, or in sympathy 
with it, in this issue. 

“Instead of meeting on the fields of battle only 
a horde of conspirators and hoodlums crazed on 
the subject of freeing the negro, even to the ex- 


255 


A Story of the South. 

tent of widely tearing the union to pieces, I am as- 
tonished to meet such men as this prisoner fighting 
to preserve the union. 

“Why this class of people North did not rise in 
their might and crush the black-republican, aboli- 
tion party at the polls in its incipiency, is a mys- 
tery to me. Instead, for nearly the past decade 
they have suffered mere selfish demagogues to be 
elected to places of trust and responsibility that 
only statesmen and true patriots should have filled. 
And the country at large suffers the dire conse- 
quences !” 

It is not the writer’s intention to dwell upon the 
events of the war; nor to handy the names of 
great men on either side and put in their mouths 
unwarranted fictitious utterances merely to fit a 
story or adorn a romance. From such vandalism 
and sacrilege good Lord deliver us. 

There were great Americans on both sides of 
whom the nation’s history is proud. It is not pro- 
posed to laud and worship a Christ-martyr, nor to 
denounce a Beelzebub-devil, on either side. 

Upon the hypothesis that Grant and Lee both 
fought for what each considered the sacred cause 
of right and justice and his country’s defense, 
there let the subject rest. 

In the preceding chapters the invidious, radical, 
agitating element North receives most prominence, 
almost to the exclusion of a large conservative, re- 
fined and patriotic class. But this agitating ele- 
ment was permitted to dominate public opinion at 
the time to the evil extent of creating the impres- 
sion that their ideas were the sentiments of the 
whole. 


256 Lorna Carswell. 

The said chapters, leading up to the clash of 
arms, were purposely written from the Southern 
point of view to depict true to nature, as well as to 
history, the actual Southern life and character, 
white and black, and the true convictions and 
emotions during the period embraced. 

What one has lived through it is generally con- 
ceded one knows. It is simply ‘^holding the mirror 
up to nature.” 

It is written neither as apology nor defense ; un- 
less, indeed, the reader discovers a latent sym- 
pathetic defense of the negro in his true and faith- 
ful devotion during the great national crisis of 
madness and misery, grandeur and despair. To 
rise in insurrection, to destroy and burn and kill, 
as he was induced to do by the rabid abolition 
radicals, was utterly averse to the slave’s disposi- 
tion or inclinations. 

Of the honored dead on both sides, with hats off 
and bowed heads, we all repeat : 

“On fame's eternal camping ground 
Their silent tents are spread ; 

While glory guards with solemn round 
The bivouac of the dead." 

If these died for the union, these died for their 
State. 


A Story of the South. 


257 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 

It is on Sunday at Rural Shades in November, 
1864. 

Merric’s face was full of perplexed ill humor 
and unaccustomed unhappiness. 

“Sway ter mercy, gra-mammy ! whay gwi cook 
specterhul brekfus en dinners en suppers fer Mis- 
sus en day all, ceppen I got loaf sugy, ner coffee an 
tea, salaratty en nuttenmeg an all sich ! Ef things 
gwi kep on disserway deriT soon be no spidus en 
ubens, wafer ner waffle iron, and nary skillit, ner 
eben pigin en potrack ter cook wid; ner dish en 
glass en silver teet outem. Folks hatter lib on 
ash-cake en cook biskit on rock lack little Mars 
Julus an dat good-fer-nuttin black imp of a Ben, 
ef de lane doan turn soon.” 

“Yer knows, Merc,” remarked Hansom wisely 
and solemnly, “de Linkumites is block-haided all 
dem konsumptions. I hearn dey eben call us nig- 
gers some kine o’ onspecterbul kontryban 0’ de 
war !” 

“Oo-oomph ! De Lawd hep !” groaned Marma. 
“Fd jess lack ter tek a bresh-broom ter ebry lass 
one o’ dem pesterin blockbaids !” was Memo’s in- 
dignant answer. 


Lorna Carswell. 


258 

Hansom adjusted his faded silk “weskit” and 
worn and* patched coachman’s suit; took off the 
old beaver churn hat now frazzled and shapeless 
and shineless; looked down sorrowfully at the 
coarse home-made brogans disfiguring his shapely 
number eleven feet; and was about to take some 
consolation in enlightening his fellow sufferers by 
wisely elucidating the war situation. But Merric 
proceeded in vehement indignant tones: 

“De idee uv er scratic Carsul famly drinkin 
parched corn-meal coffee wid sorghum lasses sweet- 
nin ! Ho tea, no nuttin, cep bare flour an meal en 
meat an garden sass. Missus an Miss Lorny tek 
it all so brave lack, an do plain eben wen us had 
company ter dinner, — des say our sogers doan hab 
good ter eat as weuns. De mizry uv it all ! Wen 
Jim come back fum Attylanty lass July a-fotchin 
Mass George wounded puddennigh ter deth, an 
port dear Mars Shelton kilt in de battle, de worl 
pear come ter de en. Harry nigger on de place, 
outer spec fer Missus, laff a joke or sung de song 
sence but go rite on wurkin de craps mournful. 
All de house servants an all de feel hans sorrowin.” 

“Oh, Merc !” moaned Marma with tears blinding 
her eyes and trickling down the wrinkled black 
face, “doan menshun mar darlin’ honey boy ! Hil 
mos kill missus en Miss Lorny. Dis po ole darkey 
would 0’ died 0’ grief hatten bin dey need me ter 
teck keer on em in dey great sorry. An wen Miss 
Hina come to meet em ! Hit wuz more’n I could 
bear, enner all bruk down !’ 

Hansom’s emotions choked him, but gaining his 
voice by an effort he tried to console Marma. 

“But yer knows, gran-mammy, dat cordin ter 


259 


A Story of the South. 

Mars George own splainin, your Jim stuck faithful 
ter he Mars Shelton throo thick an thin, hail o’ 
bullets an all ! Hit wuz one dem desprit saults 
our folks mek gin de bolition Yanks srounden At- 
tylanty. Wen Mars George wuz fotch bleedin 
ter de rear whar Jim wuz, fuss thing Jim ax im, 
‘whar Mars Shelton?’ Mars George dat weak he 
owny pint back whar de battle rage and say ‘Shot !’ 
Nobody could stop Jim, not eben de ossifers. He 
resh throo ebberting rite out tween dem shootin’ 
armies a hollerin, AVhay my Mars Shelton !’ Wuz- 
zer merricul Jim wussent kilt too; but wen de win 
kinder riz de smoke both sides seed Jim totin 
Mars Shelton off, an dey cheered im ! Eben de 
Yanks cheered im too ! Ginral Hood sont fer Jim 
an shuck he han, an tole im dat e wuzzer brave 
man ! an er faithful ! 

“Dey bury Mars Shelton wid milterry slutes, 
kazer e cappen den. Done tole yer our boy bin a 
ginral efsobe he lib.” 

“Whut sprize me,” said Merric, “is how Missus, 
Miss Lomy, Miss Nina, an all dere frens, bin teck- 
in ebberting — eben dey own does — ameckin 
shirts an things an lints en bandages fer de sol- 
jers. Dey cut up all dere fine dresses an flannels 
an linen. Dey sot up day an night sewin an knit- 
tin. Sometimes I see em cry while dey pack de 
socks an caps an does inner box ter sont off to de 
army. TJs ai got narry decent table cloff leff. 

“Dey kai get any mo silks en satins en muzlins 
an linens — not eben kaliky — an now dey wearin 
homespun dress, coarse knit gloves, an parmeter an 
wire-grass hats ! 

“Clare-ter-goodness, wenner fuss seed our Miss 


260 Lorna Carswell. 

Lorny dress dat way, wid rough shoes on her dainty 
leetle foots, dunno whedder laff or cry ! Her look 
so quaint-like lubly, I want ter hug de chile an die 
fer er on de spot! De quality shine dar all de 
same. Ho matter how yer dress up a nigger, de 
nigger rite dar still ; but yer kai hide quality eben 
in nigger does, — an dats a fac !” 

At this moment the attention of all was directed 
to the suffering emaciated face of George Wool- 
ridge, as in worn and almost tattered gray uni- 
form he limped beside Lorna, dressed as Merric 
had described her, across that same yard to that 
same dairy. “Bress de Lord, deres yit buttermilk 
an sweet milk left for mer chillun !” exclaimed 
Marma, as she hurriedly rose and hastened across 
to meet them at the dairy. 

“0, Mammy, George brings news that Sherman 
has burned Atlanta and is marching this way ! I 
have tried to persuade him to leave us and seek 
some place of safety, but he will not go. Surely 
they would not do us bodily harm, but it is differ- 
ent as to him — a Confederate soldier.” 

The girl looked anxious and worn like a hunted 
fawn. Her soft lustrous eyes looked appealingly 
sad. The carking cares, the labor, hardships and 
poignant grief of the past months, had toldT on her 
fair and lovable features. 

“Marma, she has promised to be mine when this 
war is ended! My wounds will not permit ^ yet 
to join my regiment. Col. Carswell is with John- 
ston’s army. I know that, under the circumstances, 
he would approve my stay here. I know, Lorna 
dear, you think I am too weak to prove much of a 
protector, and I am not very strong. But I would 


A Story of the South. 261 

not leave yon just now for the world, would you, 
Marma ?” 

“No, dat I woulden, honey, not fer tousan 
worls !” 

The young man smiled as his eyes met the be- 
seeching look of Lorna. His face was wan and 
pale as a sharp pain of his wound racked his emaci- 
ated frame. 

Doctors were mostly with the army. Medicine 
was rare and very difficult to get. The blockade 
caused much suffering in this respect. Woman’s 
devotion and loving ministering care took the place 
of both physician and medicine in thousands of 
instances. Confederate hospital patients suffered 
as well as Federal prisoners. 

Since Shelton’s death, Mrs. Carswell could not 
let Nina Howell part with her. She appealed to 
Nina to remain in such irresistibly sad manner, 
the equally heartbroken girl could not but re- 
main. As Nina’s mother was long since dead, and 
her father was in the army, it was arranged for 
her to stay at Rural Shades. 

This clever, high-spirited girl at the threshold 
of womanhood, with the sweetest hopes and dearest 
dreams of her young life crushed and broken, 
bravely tried to lighten her own burdened spirit 
by ministering to the cares and alleviating the un- 
happiness of those about her. 

Bright, courageous, lovely Nina ! If these pages 
ever meet your kind eyes you will know that we 
love and cherish you yet. 

A few days after this dairy scene Sherman’s 
army, in its broad sweep of destruction, camped for 
a night at Rural Shades. Fences were burned in 


262 


Lorna Carswell. 


the camp fires; the gin house was burned; and 
the provisions, grain and forage used by the in- 
vading army. All the cattle, hogs, horses and 
mules left after Carswell's many liberal contribu- 
tions to the Southern soldiery, were swept away. 
No provisions were left in the dwellings, but the 
inmates were not otherwise molested. The frail 
wounded George in his tattered gray uniform was 
passed by with only a few gibes and insults from 
some rough, thoughtless soldier. 

The Carswell family remained passive and si- 
lent. The faithful slaves were frightened like 
dumb creatures. Some hid away, others kept in 
their cabins unless ordered out to help bring corn 
and forage and kill and dress beef and pork. 
Others came into the white dwelling and kept as 
near their mistress as possible for protection. 

The army had folded its tents and gone the next 
morning some two hours. George and Mrs. Cars- 
well were congratulating themselves upon the fact 
that their loved ones were safe. Merric had some- 
where found a small chicken and enough meal to 
tyike a ho^cake. This the faithful cook had just 
brought in as breakfast for the white family. 
Neither white nor black had eaten any supper, and 
all were hungry, but Merric was going to see tha; 
her mistress and family had something to eat if 
herself and all the negroes suffered’. 

When all came into breakfast, not knowing the 
almost total lack of eatables, they would have 
jested and laughed wdien they saw the spread, had 
they not observed Merric' s keenly grieved face at 
the door. 


A Story of the South. 263 

J ust then Marma came in and in dismayed voice 
faltered, 

“Missus ! Mars George ! De Yankees is comin 
ergin ! Deys filled de yard and comin rite in here ! 
Deres nigger sojers wid dem !” 

Poor dear old Marma ! a nameless dread of evil 
to your loved ones quavered in your every tone of 
voice. 

Boisterous profanity was now heard near, and 
the hall door was crashed in as by the united kick 
of a dozen men. One glance out the window told 
George the dreadful situation. They were in the 
hands and at the mercy of a straggling class of 
nondescripts, white and black soldiers, who were, 
under pretense of foraging, really mere loot hunt- 
ers. 

“Nina,” whispered George, “for God’s sake try 
and get Willis off on a horse to overtake some re- 
spectable Yankee officer and bring him here 
quick.” 

The intelligent girl quickly understood, and 
watched with terrible impatience for an opportu- 
nity to go out unobserved. 

By this time every part of the house was being 
ransacked by the marauders. The captain of the 
squad burst into the dining room cursing and 
swearing that he would make some d — d rebel tell 
where the gold and silver and jewelry were hid, as 
none of the boys (meaning the slaves) seem to 
known. 

“Here, fellows ! Surround that d ! — d J ohnnv 
Reb with your bayonets (pointing to George). 
,This must be his old slavocrat hussy of a mother, 


264 


Loiria Carswell. 


and these dainty beauties his slave-pampered sis- 
ters. You’ll soon find out, my lovely beauties, that 
the negro is just as good and better than any of 
you d — d white face tyrants! Now, Sir Reb, (to 
George) there is a lot of treasure hid or buried on 
such a looking place as this, and you know where it 
is. I’ll give you five minutes to tell, and if you 
refuse. I’ll order those bayonets thrust through 
your — carcass ! Now, boys, stand ready. If he 
don’t tell, then when I give the word let him have 
it!” 

George, white with rage and indignant, did not 
answer a word, but stood looking unutterable con- 
tempt square in the eyes of the brutal captain. 

While the attention of all was thus riveted on 
George, Nina slipped out. The over-tried terror- 
ized Lorna had swooned in her mother’s arms. 
Mrs. Carswell attempted to speak once, but George 
silenced her by a look and a shake of the head. 

“Come, Sir !” continued the captain, with open 
watch in his hand, “three minutes of your time 
gonei You won’t speak, hey? Four minutes! 
Come, if you want to live you better speak quick ! 
Five minutes ! Now, boys, if he won’t tell time 
I count three, let him have it. One ! Two ! thr — 
Hold !” 


As the valiant captain counted, the bayonets 
were held back in thrusting position, and when he 
reached “thr — ” the soldiers made a move as if to 
thrust them through the young man’s body. 

Marma and Merric and other servants present 
screamed in fright and agony — Julian and Teln 
hid their faces and cried in terror — Mrs. Carswell 


A Story of the South. 265 

made a move with Loma. in her arms, and felt 
sick and faint. George never spoke nor moved. 

The captain then took np considerable time in 
other similar tests, but George remained silent and 
immovable through it all as an Indian brave at the 
stake. He had very little belief that the loot 
seeking captain would go to the extreme of mur- 
der anyway. George was finally placed under 
guard in a corner. The leader, angered by his 
failure, determined to vent his wrath by humil- 
iating Mrs. Carswell and the now partially re- 
covered Lorna. 

“Here, boys — no, not you — I mean the colored 
fellows. Let’s teach them blue-blooded slavo- 
crats a little lesson in social equality. Take seats 
at that table. Now, madam, and you, Miss, take 
seats there beside them and eat a social breakfast 
together. Ha, ha, ha! You will not obey me? 
Then by G — d, I’ll make you !” 

He advanced upon Lorna to drag her to the 
chair. This reached the limit with George. 
Snatching a gun from his highly amused guard, 
he shot the captain dead and thrust the bayonet 
through a negro soldier who jumped to stop him. 
A dozen guns were leveled at him and fired. He 
sank down without a groan, dead. 

Lorna almost crazed by terror and grief, kneeled 
beside his body and called his name in so sad a wail 
of love, that the excited marauders stayed their 
hands and left the room, in haste to get away. 

They confronted outside a troop of regular cav- 
alry in blue uniforms, just arrived and led by — 
Nina Howell. 

The looters were put under arrest, and no doubt 


266 


Lorna Carswell. 


received the punishment they deserved at the 
hands of General Sherman. 

We agree with that distinguished gentleman 
who said that “war is hell/’ The death of George 
Woolridge and 1 its manner is no sketch of fancy 
or fiction. 

When Nina, in sore distress, left George, sur- 
rounded by bayonets, she went out a side entrance 
leading to the ground. Running under the house 
and looking about the yard, front and back, some 
of the looters were seen carrying a trunk filled 
with booty, and hastily placing it on a wagon, 
drove off, but not in the direction the army had 
gone. She recognized the trunk as Lorna’s. See- 
ing the feet of a horse pawing the ground in a 
bed of violets at the front steps, the girl hurried 
there, unloosened the halter from around the col- 
umn post, mounted and sped away after Sher- 
man’s army. 

After racing half a mile she saw a troop of 
regular cavalry in blue coming from a cross road 
into the main road a few hundred yards ahead. 

The officer was surprised to see an excited girl 
coming at such speed and halted his troops. Her 
riding won his admiration. When she reached 
him he politely lifted his hat and looked at her 
disturbed face inquiringly. 

“Does General Sherman allow his soldiers to 
break into private dwellings — loot and steal — ter- 
rorize women and children — and murder a sick 
and wounded Confederate soldier?” pleaded the 
excited girl as fast as she could speak. 

“No ! Not if he knows it or can prevent it.” 


A Story oi the south. 267 

“Then follow me, quick !” cried Nina, bursting 
into tears. 

Every man who saw and heard felt a thrill of 
admiration and profound sympathy and the troop 
rushed on with crying Nina at its head. 


26£ 


Lorna Carswell, 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

1863 - 1865 . 

Events had meantime changed rapidly with 
Theodore Selkirk. He was now a representative 
in Congress. The constituency electing him lined 
him up with the abolition war party, and he felt 
bound to advocate and vote as was naturally ex- 
pected. 

His aspirations now were to reach higher and 
don the mantle of national senator, where he hoped 
to in part free his soul from the exasperating 
exactions of a mere radical congressional district. 
In the wider arena of power he secretly promised 
himself to atone, in a measure, the many false 
pleas circumstances had exacted in the past. 

The big political manager had by this time 
made a fortune on war supplies and army con- 
tracts. He had done much to pull Selkirk 
through, and exercised over him a kind of taken- 
for-granted ownership that was galling to the 
young man’s spirit, but which he could not evade 
or escape. 

When news of the first gun on Fort Sumter 
flashed over the nation, the Big Manager had 
rushed into Selkirk’s presence, filled to overflowing 
with animated excitement. 


269 


A Story of the South. 

“By George, Selkirk ! The thing is done at 
last! We’ve had a devil of a time pulling it 
through, though ! You see, all that muling and 
puling, policy-lacking, milksop, compromising ele- 
ment in our party came near spoiling the political 
labors of years. They were afraid of their own 
shadows, and so non-aggressive and so wedded to 
the commercial relations with the South, that if 
permitted to have their own way, there would be 
no war after all. 

“Confusion ! Don’t you understand what a 
vast amount of pressure was necessary to prevent 
the administration from adjusting the matter with 
the South! Had this been done, then farewell, a 
long farewell, to all our greatness. Why, even 
Seward got a little weak in the knees. How, by 
hook or crook, we have managed to force the South 
into the apparently aggressive act of firing the 
first gun. 

“Had we not succeeded in precipitating war, all 
the fruits of the Lincoln election would have been 
lost. You know by what a minority he was elected, 
and what a tremendous majority of the nation 
want peace. Had the conservative element North 
and South controlled at this crisis, there would be 
no disaffection of the Union, no freeing the slaves. 
Amendments to the d d old slavery constitu- 

tion guaranteeing to the South its provisions 
would have been ratified; the agitation upon 
which we have so long lived and flourished like a 
green bay tree would have died and withered away 
like the barren fig tree. You and I, and all the 
agitators, would have been buried beyond any 
political resurrection forever and a day. 


270 


Lorna Carswell. 


“I tell you, from the day of Lincoln’s inaugura- 
tion to this firing on Sumter, we have had to keep 
every trail hot between our party politicians, con- 
gressmen, state governors and Washington City 
in order to bring sufficient pressure to bring about 
the very thing that has now happened !” 

And again, in May, 1863, the Big Manager had 
sought Selkirk’s presence to give vent to his over- 
charged feelings : 

“Do you know, Selkirk, that unless our side 
brings about another battle and gains another vic- 
tory pretty quick, our political power will be vastly 
weakened ! 

“Grant’s repeated failures against Vicksburg 
and Hooker’s against Bichmond, together with 
conscriptions, suspension of habeas corpus, terrors 
of military law, suppression of freedom of speech 
and of the press, emancipation proclamations, ter- 
rible loss of life, colossal expenditures, suffering 
prisoners and the devil knows what all else, have 
aroused alarm and uneasiness throughout the 
North as to security or liberty for anybody any- 
where ! 

“Just think! Even in the cities of New York 
and Philadelphia, peace conventions have been 
permitted to publicly meet and pass resolutions ! 
The Northern press in some quarters exposes and 
denounces our purpose as a war party. Even 
some of our staunch abolition governors are weak- 
ening! Freeing the slaves is costing a devil of a 
sight more than was expected. 

“Ha ! ha ! ha ! We fixed that fellow Vallan- 
digham, though, when in the full tide of success 
against us he was nominated for governor of Ohio, 


271 


A Story of the South. 

we had him seized and exiled by military orders. 
He, as well as many others, had to be squelched 
in this way. 

“What alarms me most is that such liberty of 
speech among the people criticising and denounc- 
ing our acts is being tolerated. In last Fall’s elec- 
tions we lost the great State of New York; Indi- 
ana, Illinois, New Jersey, Ohio and Pennsylvania 
gave mighty striking hints that a majority of the 
masses were against our war policy. They begin 
to inquire what will become of their rights and 
liberties under the Constitution if our high-handed 
proceedings keep on. 

“Did you notice that speech last Fall by Justice 
Curtis, of Boston? The very man who dissented 
in the Dred Scott case in the Supreme Court? 
You know our plan has been, and is, through our 
partisan press, to howl ‘disloyalty’ against any one 
who dares to criticise adversely any act of the ad- 
ministration. But this old fellow comes square 
at us from the shoulder, and proclaims to the 
nation that our acts put in jeopardy every prin- 
ciple of law by which the safety and welfare of 
this republic is secured. 

“Even in the army there have been some mutin- 
ous feelings. The question is raised in the minds 
of many as to what all this bloodshed is for. If 
lots of ’em thought it was only to free the negroes 
and to perpetuate abolition power there would be 
h — 1 to play! Not even the cry of ‘protect the 
flag’ and ‘save the union’ will save our hides and 
keep the thing going much longer at this rate. 
We will soon be small potatoes and few in a hill 
unless the tide is turned. 


272 


Lorna Carswell, 


“Once free the negroes, make them voting citi- 
zens, and at the same time disfranchise the rebels, 
then we will have our innings. Our policy then 
will be to keep the seceded States out of the Union 
and under military rule as long as possible. 
“Every reconstruction official will cry ‘Amen’ to 
everything we say, and every freedman will vote 
the party ticket. The war will not by a long shot 
end our agitation about the negro race, even after 
emancipation. Just you watch and see! 

“But I must hurry away. These big army con- 
tracts keep me hustling. Say, though ! You will 
reach the age just in time. There is strong talk 
of putting your name up for senator. If I say the 
word, in you go ! 

“Let’s see — ‘Brilliant speech of the Hon. Theo- 
dore Selkirk in the Senate of the United States/ 
Sounds well, don’t it?” 

A man is often easily convinced when the con- 
victions lead on in the same line of his ambition. 
But this time Selkirk had read up and studied 
the slavery question extensively from abolition 
viewpoints. He had made so many anti-slavery 
political speeches that his mind almost uncon- 
sciously accepted the motto that the constitution 
of his country was indeed “A covenant with death 
— an agreement with hell.” He had become a 
zealot even up to the “mental reservation” degree 
of faith. Greeley, Sumner, Chase and Beecher 
became his mentors in place of Washington, Clay, 
Calhoun and Webster. 


A Story of the South. 


*73 


CHAPTER XXX. 

“ Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even in the cannons mouth ” 

To emphasize his convictions, as well as to en- 
large his popnlarity, Selkirk had enlisted in the 
Federal army. At the burning of Atlanta the for- 
tunes of war cast his lot with Sherman in his raid 
through Georgia. 

In that trip South in 1859 he had not visited 
Rural Shades, nor met Carswell’s family. He 
knew the march was in the vicinity of that Georgia 
town, where, sick and penniless, he had accepted 
Carswell’s generosity. 

By chance it was he, as a cavalry officer, to whom 
the excited Nina Howell appealed that morning of 
the tragic death of George Woolridge ; and it was 
his troop that followed the crying Nina to the 
rescue. 

Sharply ordering his men to arrest the escaping 
marauders and following Nina he hurried in ere 
the smoke of the gun shots cleared the scene in the 
dining room. He stood gazing at the beautiful 
face of a young girl crying in abandoned grief 
over the frail dead form in tattered gray uniform. 

Poor Lorna’s agony-haunted face appealed so 
strongly to the soldier politician that he was 


m 


Lorna Carswell. 


speechless in deepest pity and sympathy. His 
emotion stirred his heart and soul to depths never 
before fathomed. He would give the world to re- 
store that sweet face to smiles and happiness. 

The worn features, the coarse homespun dress, 
the rough shoes, the patient, hungry look, he di- 
vined the whole story of sacrifice and anxious suf- 
fering to the tender girl accustomed from child- 
hood to the bountiful luxuries of a prosperous 
Southern home. Then this heart-breaking grief. 

The strong soldier could not control voice for 
commands, but motioned to his guard to remove 
quietly the other two dead bodies. 

At this moment our invalid friend and beloved 
teacher, Mr. Parks, who had not been able to leave 
his room for weeks, appeared at the door. His 
hollow, consumptive cough attracted Selkirk’s at- 
tention. He went to the invalid, and supporting 
him to a sofa in the broad hall, asked : 

“Who is that dead — in gray?” 

“A friend of this family, George Woolridge.” 

“And the young lady weeping over him so — so.” 

“Lorna Carswell, the dearest girl in the world. 
They were lovers and were to be married when the 
war is over.” 

At the name of Carswell, Selkirk started as 
though a minie ball had struck him. He feared 
to ask the next question : 

“And this place and this family is ?” 

“Col. Edward Carswell’s. Our Lorna is his 
daughter. Would you like to speak with Mrs. 
Carswell, sir?” 

“Ho, no ! not yet. Where is Col. Carswell I” 

“He is away, with Johnston’s army. His son 


A Story of the South. 275 

Shelton was killed in battle near Atlanta the past 
summer. Now our George is dead, too !” 

The listener felt guiltily relieved that he was 
not to meet his friend of a day under present 
circumstances; — relieved also that a fit of cough- 
ing prevented Mr. Parks from observing his un- 
controllable agitation. 

The vision of that inexpressibly sweet, an- 
guished face of the bereaved Lorna haunted him 
like an accusing angel, as though betrayal and 
crime lay against his own soul. 

As he had left the room of death he caught a 
glimpse of Mrs. Carswell and Nina and Marma ap- 
proaching Lorna to weep with her and try to com- 
fort. Worldly ambition and all paled into insig- 
nificance in the presence of this broken, bereaved 
and ruined family. He would sacrifice all things 
— immolate himself — could it but restore their 
dead to life and them to their former happiness. 

Make himself known here now? No, a thous- 
and times no ! 

“Tell them,” he said to Mr. Parks, “they need 
fear no further molestation. I will place a guard 
about the house day and night until danger is 
past. If possible, I will secure written orders 
from General Sherman himself for the full protec- 
tion and security of this home and all that, is left 
of it.” 

Hardly stopping to hear Mr. Parks’ thanks, he 
hastened away, obedient to the stern commands, of 
war, to join the raiding host in its onward wide 
swath of destruction to the sea, through a now al- 
most defenseless country. 

The unequal contest was fast narrowing toward 


Lorna Carswell. 


276 

the inevitable close. Not even the Spartan 
bravery, buoyed by patriotic love and defense of 
home and fireside, could stem the overwhelming 
tide. A total Federal enlistment of 2,600,000 
men at arms against a total Confederate roster of 
600.000 during the entire war, tells the grim storv. 
Even then the emancipation of the slaves was de- 
clared by the administration at Washington, as a 
necessary war measure to weaken the force of the 
heroes struggling for their constitutional rights 
and liberties. 

As Selkirk passed out and gave orders for guard- 
ing Eural Shades he encountered Hansom. He 
recognized in the black face and faded tatter- 
demalion toggery the slave coachman who had in- 
terrupted his first and only interview with Cars- 
well in the town law office. He avoided the 
negro’s enquiring gaze and hastened on and away. 

“Merc, I’se seed dat ossifer buckra summere fo 
dis, pears lack, but cai ricommender whar. Mus- 
ser bin fo de war, kaze he face call ter min bet- 
terer days dan dese, sho ! Mer, sence raslin en 
prod jerkin widdim, but ■” 

“Stop yer jaw !” exclaimed the bewildered, ex- 
asperated Merric, “an projec up sumpen tete fer 
Missus an dey all. Deres natterly nuffin lef on de 
place highenlow. Fo de Lawd, I woosh all dem 
free sotters sizzlin on hremstone gridirons in de 
hottes pit de debble got fo dey ebber come hyar 
sturbin decent folks en specterble niggers ! What 
us all gwine do !” 

Now Mose, Willis, Hansom, Jim and others of 
the slaves, for long years under an indulgent mas- 
ter had each saved up more or less gold and silver 


2 77 


A Story of the South. 

money kept in some secret hiding place. This 
money was paid them by the master for extra work 
on holidays ; or night work in the blacksmith shop 
mending and pointing and sharpening plows in the 
rush crop season; or for making brooms, ax-han- 
dles, hoe helves, cotton baskets, shuck collars; or 
proceeds of half-Saturday cotton patches. 

Willis first sought his mistress with all his little 
store, and after some humble hesitation, said, 
“Missus, Merc say deres nuttin tete lef on de place. 
Dem sojers say us hatter go ter de town an buy 
some wisions. Is — is yer got enny money ?” 

“No, Willis, nothing but a few dollars of worth- 
less Confederate money.” 

“Deu, Missus, please-um teck dis,” and the 
slave humbly and apologetically handed her a 
handful of gold and silver coins, every cent that he 
had saved up, about ninety dollars. 

“Why, Willis ! ? exclaimed his mistress, tears 
springing to her eyes, “you considerate, faithful 
servant ! I will use it as you wish, but your mas- 
ter will pay it hack to you doubled if he lives to 
ever return home. Here, take it and go to town 
and buy meat and bread for us all.” 

“Yessum, Mose an Jim an Hansom done tole 
me dey got some, too, an dey all want you to teck 
itr 

•'Thank you and all of you. Use only what may 
be necessary. You can pass anywhere unmolested 
among our enemies, and perhaps can secure sup- 
plies wnere we would fail.” 

The faithful negroes were more than glad to 
ihus give their savings, even were there no hope of 
^ver a cent being repaid. They would suffer any 


Lorna Carswell. 


278 

privation and make any sacrifice — rather than see 
any member of their white family want for bread. 

When poor little wily Ben’s rations were cut 
short and scant he gave up all hopes of any more 
happy plantation days. His distress was pitiful. 
He did not appreciate the joke of the President in 
the Hampton Roads Conference, who, when re r 
minded of what vast suffering would necessarily 
ensue to the slaves if immediate emancipation were 
pressed, answered by an anecdote winding up with 
“let ’em root !” 

So Rural Shades was left for the time with the 
faithful blacks procuring supplies and caring for 
the whites, until friends outside the limits of the 
raid could be notified.' 

After this Selkirk’s officers and men often won- 
dered at his sad, smileless face and abstracted man- 
ner. Whenever on the march he discovered tres- 
pass or insult in private homes his wrath was ter- 
rible, and his conduct toward the offender reck- 
lessly severe. 


A Story of the South. 


279 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

MAN" PROPOSES, BUT GOD DISPOSES. 

Within the leaves of an old volume of Dr. 
Clark’s Commentaries, a relic of the Carswell 
family library, the letter herein given was found. 
It was written on cheap yellow paper, now faded 
with age : 


“Rural Shades, Ga., April 16, 1865. 
“Col. Edward Carswell, Johnston's Army, Raleigh, 
N. C. 

“My Dear Husband: Since GenT Lee’s sur- 
render at Appomattox on 9th inst. I have been 
expecting to learn of the surrender of Johnston’s 
army and to greet your return. Thank God, your 
dear life is spared ! 

“To-day is Sunday. My emotion? are so in- 
expressibly sad — the only relief is to write you, but 
with little hope of the letter reaching your hands 
in the disturbed state of the country. As I write 
the dear word home, and anticipate in gladness 
your return to its desolated condition, my courage 
yields to a flood of tears! 

“But you must not think, husband dear, we have 
lost all heart or hope. Love and devotion cannot 


28 o 


Lorna Carswell. 


die, though it seems all else has failed. War has 
shattered fortune, present desolation and uncer- 
tainty take the place of former prosperity and 
peace; still we can be happy whether in hovel or 
palace. 

“The spirit of courageously working through 
heart-breaking suffering that sustained us women 
of the South during the past four years, will not 
desert us now or ever, no matter what ills the fu- 
ture has in store. 

“You may deem this hut a weak and frail wom- 
an’s boasting, when I tell you at same time my 
anxious fears and dread agony about our darling 
Lorna ! She has never recovered the horrible 
shock of George’s terrible death. The dearest, 
sweetest child ! How she tries in a thousand piti- 
able ways to smile and cheer up for our sake ; while 
her loving heart is buried with her dead — her 
buddie Shelton and her lover George. Oh ! dear 
husband ! hasten home and help us sustain and 
save her precious life ! 

“How we have managed to live since Sherman’s 
raid only God and the extremely desolate know. 
Had it not been for Marma and Merric, Sukey, 
Willis, Jim, Mose, Hansom and others of our 
faithful slaves giving and sacrificing all they had 
or could get for us, I fear to think how we would 
have suffered for a while, even for bread to eat. 
As to Lorna, they worship the ground she treads 
upon! Any one, or all of them, I really believe, 
would risk and sacrifice life itself for their Miss 
Lorna’s comfort and happiness. If she but gives 
them a forced smile of thanks they are happy, and 
strive who can do most for her. 


28 i 


A Story of the South. 

“Ben and Baymon and Dennis set traps in the 
now fenceless fields to catch birds so Marma and 
Merric may prepare some dainty dish for the 
beloved young mistress, who has never in her life 
spoken an unkind word to her slaves. The first 
and choicest dewberry, fruit, flower, or minnow 
from the branch, or wild strawberry, is for their 
Miss Lorna ! 

“I wrote you of Mr. Parks’ death. Julian and 
Teln and all of us, white and black, were much 
grieved and saddened. He was a Christian gentle- 
man, and died peacefully with full trust in God 
for a better life in a better land. Our regret was 
deepened because we had not the means nor medi- 
cine and delicacies necessary for his greater re- 
lief from suffering while he lived. 

“As the Yankee raid left nothing, right at the 
beginning of winter, too, it really looked for a 
while as if many of the negroes- would suffer star- 
vation. Poor, trusting creatures ! How I pitied 
them, and wished a thousand times for the abun- 
dance of past days to divide with them. Necessity 
has forced most of them to wander away hunting 
something to eat. They are like sheep without a 
shepherd. It was heart-breaking to see our ever 
faithful servants obliged to part with us in want, 
and we with no means to help them. If the Yan- 
kees had not seized all the cotton made last year 
by their labor, there would have been means to 
feed them and us too, and something left to re- 
fence and plant a crop this year. 

“Willis and Jim, Hansom and Mose have man- 
aged somehow to patch up some fencing about a 
small acreage, and have planted some crop. Do 


282 


Lorna Carswell. 


hasten home and arrange to plant more, and thus 
give more of them employment. I suppose they 
are all free now to go and come as they please. 
When I told dear old Marma this she cried as if 
she thought I wanted her to leave us. 

“Our darling Nina is still with us, braving all 
our misfortunes. Bless her dear, courageous 
heart! Oh, Edward, if our Shelton had been 
spared, what a treasure of a wife our boy would 
have had ! Nina will not bear the idea of leaving 
Lorna now. It frightens me to think of our 
wasted, pale, patient darling. Do you suppose 
Nina thinks she will never recover ! 

“There, my beloved husband, I am torturing 
your heart with my fears again. But oh, do has- 
ten home to help us bring the roses again to our 
darling’s grief -wasted cheeks. 

“Lorna sends her love to her papa. 

“As ever, your loving, devoted wife, 

“Julia Carswell.” 

Mrs. Carswell’s was not the only heart and mind 
devoted to thoughts of Lorna. 

About this time Theodore Selkirk, with Sher- 
man’s army, was in Baleigh. The young Congress- 
man-soldier could never erase from memory the 
scene of that heart-broken beautiful face bending 
in tears over the dead features of the frail young 
soldier in gray. 

The ghost of his friend Carswell seemed to be 
standing aloof and pointing with accusing finger 
as if saying without words: 

“See some of the effects of your unholy ambi- 
tion !” 


A Story of the South. 283 

Pity and remorse filled his soul. So engrossed 
did he become as the sad tableaux appeared unbid- 
den again and again, that he found himself, or a 
secret voice within the recesses of his heart, wish- 
ing he were even that dead clay in gray, if by so 
being he might win a tear of love and forgiveness 
from that fair haunting maiden face. 

Wandering aimlessly one day after Johnston’s 
surrender among the sutler’s and baggage trains 
of the Federal army, he stood amazed at the name 
of “Lorna Carswell, Rural Shades, Ga.,” on a 
trunk amid the debris of war. 

He astonished the rough claimant by tempestu- 
ously paying him several prices for the trunk and 
contents after everything of seeming value was 
taken out. 

Nothing was left but a girl’s clothing, mostly 
of coarse homespun, and some letters and pictures. 
Selkirk kept out only a daguerreotype of a girlish 
face, and ordered the once handsome leather trunk 
shipped to his western home. Some day he would 
return it to its owner. 

Seeking his private quarters, he gazed with a 
thousand conflicting emotions at the trustful, soft, 
dark brown eyes, the fair, lovely features, the mass 
of auburn hair, the dimpled cheeks, the sweet ex- 
pression of lips. A face so fair, so pure, so lovely, 
so trusting ! His cheek burned as if conscious of 
wrong and sacrilege in looking ! What right had 
he to possess even the picture? Yes, it was she, 
Lorna, the daughter of his betrayed friend, Cars- 
well; the same girl he had seen so tragically suf- 
fering. Strange as it all was, he was enthralled 


284 


Lorna Carswell. 


by a worshipping love for one whom he had seen 
but once for a moment, one whom he had never 
spoken to, and whose voice was heard only in be- 
wailing in tenderest tones her lover’s death. 

When all this turmoil of war is over ; when time, 
the great healer, has assuaged her grief, then he 
would seek her dear presence and offer his de- 
votion, his ambition, his life, his all, in sweet 
atonement and perhaps — perhaps ! spend his days 
in bliss with her in her own sunny South. 

Some two months afterward Selkirk placed the 
trunk with its girl clothing in the hands of a 
fashionable dressmaking establishment, ordering it 
filled with a complete and costly wardrobe cut to 
fit the contents of homespun. When the order 
was filled and a large bill paid, he deliberated long 
what to do. 

Would that proud Southern family accept the 
gift at all ? How should he notify them — how ex- 
plain ? 

He finally wrote Col. Carswell, asking, permis- 
sion to return a trunk found in the accident of war 
with his daughter’s name on it. And in memory 
of the kind act of the young lady’s father to the 
writer years past, would he accept for her a gift of 
gratitude in the new contents of the trunk ? And 
would he permit the writer to some day come in 
person to again express his thanks and regards to 
Col. Carswell, and also his family ? 

Selkirk was restless until in due time a reply 
came. Its contents placed over hjs life a deep 
shadow of grief and heartache which has never 
cleared away. 


285 


A Story of the South. 

“Kural Shades, Ga., Aug. 1, 1865. 

“My dear Sir : Your kind letter of recent date 
was duly received, and found myself and house- 
hold bowed and crushed under the greatest sorrow 
of our life. Our idolized daughter, Loma, was 
buried but three days since. God keep her pnre 
spirit, and help ns to bear our burden of broken 
hearts ! 

“Your intended act of kindness is needless now. 
But it could not have been accepted anyway. If 
you will return the trunk with only original con- 
tents we will be ever grateful. 

“Myself and family will welcome you any time 
as a visitor, although hospitality is about all we 
have left now. 

“With best wishes for your welfare, as ever 
your friend, Edward Carswell.” 

Theodore Selkirk, Esq. 

Man proposes, hut God disposes. And yet “it is 
better to have loved and lost, than never to have 
loved at all.” 

Selkirk bowed over the trunk as though it held 
the shrouded spirit of the loved and lost. The 
strong man wept as a child. 


286 


Lorna Carswell. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE CARPET-BAGGER AND HIS BROTHER IN BLACK. 

“Slavery is dead 1 ! Long live slavery!” The 
negro was the manual slave of his Southern mas- 
ter. Now he must be made the political slaye of 
his emancipators. IPs no use to have friends un- 
less you can make use of them! Ha, ha! The 
ignorant innocents ! We will be the potter, they 
will be the clay. We will pose as their Saviour — 
their Moses. 

“The South is the field to display my talents 
and fill my pockets now. I shall pack my carpet 
bag and go way down South to Florida for health 
and pleasure and recreation — and office and 
plunder! It was not healthy down th^re for me 
when robel bullets whistled — but now I’ll risk a 
little for the golden harvest in prospect. There’s 
millions in it ! But stop — am I for Johnson and 
the Constitution, or for Congress and the Repub- 
lican party? Better be for Johnson now, so as 
to get a political appointment, and then be gov- 
erned by circumstances after I get there. Easy 
enough to change if necessary. Johnson’s policy 
will shorten my chances, while that of Congress 
offers to lengthen them indefinitely. We must 
not let the rebels come back too easy. The way 


A Story of the South. 287 

things are working down there now they might 
even capture the ex-slave vote. If we thought the 
freedmen would vote against the Republican party 
they should never have the franchise this side of 
doomsday. 

"It will never do to permit friendly relations 
to exist between the Southern white and the freed- 
men. Racial hate and opposition must be stirred 
up, with a little race war now and then to report 
to our Republican Congress to show the need of 
reconstruction. Yes, I shall go to Florida. 
There’s lots o’ niggers down there ! With the mili- 
tary to back me and the Freedman’s Bureau to 
furnish the means, I shall be a power. My political 
pull will secure me an agency in said bureau.” 

So soliloquized our Big Manager in the fall of 
1866. He landed in Tallahassee early in the 
spring of 1867, armed with official authority as a 
bureau agent. 

"Gee- whizz ! What bloom and beauty ! What 
a dream of loveliness and repose is this fair land ! 
Had I lived here on one of these broad plantations 
with a hundred or more obedient, devoted slaves, 
I would have resisted to the last ditch the intoler- 
ant, mischievous intermeddling of the abolition- 
ists of the North, too, just as the people of the 
South did.” 

As our Big Manager stood on the east portico 
of the capitol thus admiring a bit of Florida, he 
observed two negro men approaching each other, 
near him. They evidently knew each other well, 
and had worked side by side for years on the same 
plantation as plain Gus and Sam. This was their 
first meeting since freedom. But instead of the 


288 


Lorna Carswell. 


old-fashioned, hearty and cheerful “hello, Gus !” 
and “howdy, Sam !” they eyed each other solemnly 
and with slow circumspection. 

“Yer hab de adwantage ob me, sar, but ef mer 
ricommembence ai foolin, Fse seed de genlum 
somewhars fore dis,” and Gus held out his hand 
to Sam. 

“Scuse mer absunce o’ mind, sar/’ said Sam, 
taking the hand and holding it, “I means no 
dissuaspectshun, but yer face hab a mos famly 
pearance. Whut mought be yer habiliments ?” 

“Agustice Caesar Robersing, sar, en whut 
mought yer inquirements be ?” 

“Samuel Johnsing, sar ! Mr. Robersing, sar, 
low me ter say it facilitates me gret pleasures ter 
mek yer quaintance !” 

“Mr. Johnsing, de facilities is mos receptional, 
sar !” 

Each bows, with hat in left hand as they shake, 
hands. As their eyes meet even the pompous dig- 
nity of freedom and citizenship refuses to hide 
the natural hilarity of disposition, and they slap 
each other on the back and burst out in uproarious 
regular plantation laughter. 

“Say ! Yer kinky hed nigger ! Ain’t you Gus ?” 

“Sho I is ! You wooly haid ! An you is nobody 
but Sam!” 

“Dog-gone! I knowed yer whenner fuss sot 
eyes on yer, but you wuz dat biggety !” And Gus 
imitated Sam’s assumed dignity in the most 
comical way and roared again. 

“Say, Gus, stop dat ! Member yer is er bloomin 
free genlum o’ color, en dar yer is teckin on zacklv 
lack nuttin but er way-back plantation nigger!” 


A Story of the South. 289 

“Cose I fergit, Sam, but de ole laughs an corn 
songs an whoops is mighty ticin yit. But huc- 
come is yer sume Robersing? Dat wussent yer 
Mars Perkins’ name.” 

“Better ax whut mek yer dibilaments John sing, 
kaze everybody knows yer old masser wuz name 
Perkins, too !” 

“Say — a-hem ! Mr. Robersing, less dry up on 
foolin an conserve judgmatikilly. De grabbletaters 
ob de sponserbles totin on our haids ez free en- 
french citrons will hatter be sumed, yer muss •” 

“Hole on — stiddy rite dar, Mr. Johnsing. Us 
ain’t derange wid de frinches yit. Doan yer mem- 
ber lass spring twuz norated us could vote? 
Mejitly big meetin wuz helt here in Tallahassee 
by de colored citrons in dat chutch down dar, en 
den an dere us lected dat yaller nigger Baldy 
Sours member congress renanimous ! 

“Den money hatter be klected fer to sont our 
member rite on ter Washington ; an ole an young, 
do dey wuz sufrin fer meat an bread an does, gin 
der lass dollar. Hundreds 0’ dollars wuz riz, an 
Baldy Sours went off ter congress, too big fer he 
britches. Den •” 

“Yer, I sho member, kaze lack er blame ijit I 
gin im two dollar. But scusin de rupshun, Mr. 
Robersing, purceed wid yer noration. Use all 
retenshun, sar.” 

“Well, atter Baldy gone narry nigger could 
buck down ter enny stiddy wuck, but jess kep on 
de move loungin round doin nuttin cep wuck dey 
jaw bout whut all dere colored member 0’ con- 
gress gwi do fer em; an waitin fer ter hearn fum 
im. 


290 


Lorna Carswell. 


“Bombye, after some mos starve, Baldy writ e 
wuz comm back ter tell em all whut some devil 
he done done fer em, but dat de white folks here 
would kill im wen dey skivver what all e done, 
an dey muss all pertect im. Den ” 

“Yes, I wuz one ov de comity, an wen ■” 

“Mr. Johnsing! Is I a talkin dis noration, or 
is you a jawin dis tale o’ woe?” 

“Sartinly, Mr. Robersing, sartainly ! Scuse 
me.” 

“WeR^-den congress Baldy arriv, an erbout free 
tousen on us form in line wid drums beatin en 
flags flyin, an march a jubilatin ter he cabin. A 
big comity, armed ter de jaw bones wid muskits 
en pistols en swords, scorted de bloomin congres- 
sioner way out ter Houston’s spring. He low 
fern us sround im ter kep off de white folks wen 
e speech. Hone on em come do. Nobody but nig- 
gers pear ter know us had er live congresser. 

“Den how 'd'at gingy-bread did talk ! All de 
niggers in Leon county wuz dar a swallerin ebber- 
sing e say. 

“He low dat congress wuz our fren long ez 
we’uns sport de publican party! Dat us ’ould 
vote soon en hep lect dere ticket; lackwise also 
dey would feed us frum a bureau, no ole smokus 
ner cubbud, but er spankin bran new bureau, an 
konfluscate de white an gin ebry huff on us forty 
acre an a mule a ! Dat we is all hunky-dory equal 
in mo disrepee dan de whites a ! Dat kaze us 
clear de fields when slaves dey long tu us when 
free a ! Dat all de rights long tu de black an 
none ter de white a ! Dat he rejuced an pass a 
law defrenchise all de whites an er franchin all 


A Story of the South. 29 t 

de blacks a ! Dat de day wuz shortly acomin a ! 
when all dis sunny lan o’ song wonld long ter de 
blacks a ! Dat de Afric gander shell flop e wings 
an flap inter de goobernatul cheer a ! Into de 
jestiss seat ! De legslater, de sherf an de pos-office 
a ! De constaberlation ! de congress of de Nunited. 
States full 0’ black faces a ! All us hatter do is 
ter vote de publican ticket, fuss, lass en all de 
time, cause-en-kaze ef de dimicracks eber hab a 
show dey slap ebry one on us back ter slavery a ! 
We muss hate em lack de debble ! hlebe nuttin dey 
say ! ten none o’ dere meetins ! but hab faith an 
lib en die by de publican party whut gin us our 
freedom a ! 

“Dats de way Baldy talked, an e had em all 
a shoutin! He feelingly speech 0’ de need 0’ mo 
money, so e could hurry back.” 

As Gus had proceeded, his vivid imagination 
and imitative talent took unconscious possession 
of him. He strutted and posed, brandished his 
arms and made facial contortions. Sam several 
times tried to stop his tirade and high voice, but 
Gus was in love with his recital and his own voice, 
and heedlessly kept right on to the finish. 

“But dat ain’t all,” continued Mr. Roberson. 
“De wuss am still a comin. All dis glory fer 
Baldy Sours wuz pizen ter yether niggers sich ez 
wuz big injuns on de rampage fer congress, too. 
Some on em wanted to hell nuther convenience rite 
dar an lect deyselves ter congress, argifyin fer 
de rottatery motion in orfice. 

“Dar wuz plenty whiskey drunk mean ernuff 
ter meek a man pey e juss debts, or eben vote de 
dimmycrat ticket ! 


292 


Lorna Carswell. 


“Spute riz dat Baldy nuther seed de presdent 
ner congress, but jess went happy on de way fur 
ez Savanny, whar ’e highflied twill all de money 
spen, an den* come back foolin niggers ! De 
dishpewters got so hot dey gin ter swipe razzers 
en cuss en shoot an knock down, an butt ! 

“Wen buttin commence danger wuz nigh! An 
I run jess kaze er coulden fly ! Mr. Johnsing, sar, 
teck notiss dem lass remark is de pome I decom- 
posed afterward ter demorlize dat casion.” 

“Say, Gus, cumere, close ! How much 0 ’ dat bu- 
reau rations is yer got ?” 

“He, he, ha, ha, hi! Youse er goose wid one 
laig, Sam, ef ye ain’t got all yer need ! Blame my 
cats, er ain’t wuck a hull day sence hit com- 
mence. Ain’t yer a freedman?” 

“Yas — dat so.” 

“Well, ai dat de Freedman’s Bureau ?” 

“0 go way ! Sho it am.” 

“Den hits yer bureau, ain’t er?’ 

“Gus ! Youse sho a born polly ticker ! But say, 
ergin; did yer git forty acre an er mule?” 

“Yer dismember dat Baldy low dat his quallegs 
Sumler, an Pumry en Steve an er — rer — Turnde- 
bull an Bennywade, enner passul mo, low dat all 
de mule an plantation gwi be wided fum de white 
ter de royal f reedmens ? But what de matter, Gus ! 
What ails yer, Mr. Robersing?” 

“0, Sam ! Doan dig en plow en harry mer feel- 
ins. Yer consume too much on ole quaintence. 
Dm talkin you sence now. Listen. Afore de re- 
destruction polly o’ de publican congress, a-hem — 
wuz norate, us niggers didn’t know nuttin bout 
pollyticks. Diden know enny better dan ter go 


293 


A Story of the South. 

rite on wurken de ole plantations fer wages er 
fur share de craps. All de white folks mos dat eb- 
ber own niggers treat us good an vise us how ter 
git erlong. I staid wid ole masser year de war 
close an come out wid wisions an money too. I 
wuz all fix fer nother crap an wurkin rite long 
ignunt o’ my rites when a slick nigger come erlong 
by de fiel an ax if I own dat place. Cose I tole 
im no. Den e say I wuz a simple fool — dat I 
could own it. Upshot on it wuz I went ter de 
Nunited State land orfis yander. De gemmen dar 
wuz de publican government. One on em ax me 
ef I want lan. Cose er tole im yasser. Den e say 
how much money is yer got, en er tole im. 

“Den e writ a stificat an gin it ter me wid 
some painted pegs, an tuck all mer money. 
say dot dem pegs roun, one at ebery cornder de 
lan yer want, an hits yourn. 

“I sot em roun dat night. Next day ole masser 
come directin bout mer crap. I wuz sassy en im- 
pudent en e got mad. Den I got mad en tole im 
dat lan wuz mine. Wen e foun out how it wuz e 
try ter reason an splain bout fraud, lack e pity 
me. De debble wuz in me do, kaze me hard wuck 
money done gone, en I jess desprit lack hell de 
place. Upshot de bizness, e get de sherfler ter 
shuffle me off. Hundreds o’ niggers bought plan- 
tations jess as I did en loss all dey made. Dats 
how de forty acre en a mule turn out wid me. It 
harry mer feelins ! 

“Seein dat twuz no usen to wuck, I bin loafin 
ebber sence. Den I hearn erbout dat bureau, an 
been farin middlin. Use cided ter lib on polly- 
ticks atter dis.” 


294 


Lorna Carswell. 


“Guss, Mr. Robersing — lemme tole yer sumpen ! 
Deres.lots o’ talk bout doin way wid de white con- 
stutes ob dis State an sottin up a black one 
cordin to dem restructions o’ congress. Maybe 
Baldy Sours did git dar atter all! He told lots 
sho, rite in de line ob de rumies. Us kin sot our 
pegs.” 

“0, Mr. Johnsing! Doan say pegs ter me!” 

“Souse de slippence — but if arry black man kin 
git dar ter help hole de ossifies, why cai me en 
you !” 

“Agreed, Sam! Shake! Less go en tek er 
smile. Is yer got de change?” 

“Sho, Gus — I sole er little sply o wision er got 
fum de bureau, an ” 

“0, Sam, you’ll do ! Ha, ha ! Come on !” 

“Humph !” mused our manager who had stepped 
behind a big pillar and quietly listened to the 
whole conversation of the two brothers in black. 
“Some of these innocents have already caught 
on to my trade. Ambitious, too, and want to 
get their black fingers into the public pie ! I’ll 
know how to manage such as they. Fool ’em 
with promises. 

“That land scheme looter, who it seems has 
preceded me, was a fool for want of sense. 
That kind of thing was too easily discoverable as 
unblushing fraud. 

“These fine plantations look enticing! As I 
control supplies of this bureau, how easy it will 
be to run a big cotton farm and pay for labor in 
supplies! The idea is worthy of my brain and 
merits trial on a big scale. Good idea to take 
one of the army officers in as a partner. See! 


2 95 


A Story of the South. 

Get lot of the blacks to work on shares too, take 
mortgage on their part of crop for advances. 
When crop is gathered, swoop in everything, sell 
all the crop and stock, fail to pay any rent, let 
the niggers and the owners hold the hag while 
we pocket the hoodie 

And he carried ont the scheme. There was 
some little friction during the year. He put the 
prince of darkness to shame in the various de- 
vices and methods employed to embitter hatred 
and violence and bloodshed between black and 
white, and to humiliate the latter. Sent and au- 
thorized by the government ostensibly to protect 
the blacks and keep peace, to harmonize differ- 
ences and “reconstruct,” a mad bull in a china 
shop was not a circumstance, compared to these 
pet lambs called carpet-baggers, for creating dis- 
turbance. 

As supervisor of contracts of labor between 
black and white, our enterprising Big Manager 
soon had quite a revenue by charging fees for 
approving such contracts. A white citizen com- 
plained at this tax and threatened investigation as 
to its legality. He was arrested and jailed and 
kept there without charges preferred or trial, at 
the will of our great paternalizer. In one in- 
stance, four young white farmers, while working 
a large number of freedmen under a contract ap- 
proved by the bureau agent, were arrested and 
jailed because one of the freedmen complained 
against one of the rights of their employers em- 
braced in said contract. The bureau held them 
in jail, refusing to assign any cause of such ar- 


Lorna Carswell. 


296 

rests, and refusing them a trial. All to show 
power to the blacks and humiliate the whites. 

After enraging the whites, and inducing the de- 
luded blacks to commit acts that resulted in the 
death of one or more whites and several blacks, 
our Big Manager would complacently write to his 
member of Congress of Southern outrages, giving 
harrowing pictures of riot and bloodshed ; be- 
wailing the incorrigible hatred of Southern rebels 
against the union and against the loyal freedmen ; 
that he was braving death itself trying to protect 
the freedmen in their rights ; for the sake of hu- 
manity, convince Congress of the necessity of even 
more stringent reconstruction laws; that for 
Heaven’s sake continue the Freedmen’s Bureau 
— it was accomplishing such a benign work in 
protecting the only loyal citizens — that where he 
had found wrong, chaos, racial strife and disunion, 
he was gradually but surely instituting right, jus- 
tice, peace, harmony and union. 

Then he would smile as he read over his long 
detailed masterpiece, and write a private commu- 
nication to the same congressman as follows : 

“We must elect the next president. The ne- 
groes, under the head of our bureau or the con- 
trol of our bayonets, will vote for our candidate ; 
they must have the ballot. The whites, outraged 
by our attempts to put the negro over them, will 
vote against him. Therefore the bayonet must 
place the negro in power in these Southern States 
to give us seventy electoral votes for president, 
twenty senators, and fifty members of the house. 
We must take no step backward, not a hair’s ' 
breadth. If it forces a war of races, let it come; 


A Story of the South. 297 

let them fight it out. The United States must 
guarantee to every State a loyal republican form of 
government of the radical abolition created-equal 
stripe ! 

“What if our army and bureau and other en- 
gines of political warfare cost millions of taxa- 
tion ! We make the rebel States help pay the tax, 
whether we allow them representation in Congress 
or not. Let the people growl. Damn the people !” 

And when the faithful partisan member of Con- 
gress receives our Big Manager’s letter, he pub- 
lishes the aforesaid masterpiece to the world in the 
Congressional Globe as being from “a gentleman 
of high character and unquestionable veracity; a 
brave, loyal union man striving like a hero and 
patriot martyr to duty,” et cetera; and proceeds 
to berate at length “the unhung rebel traitors 
still coiling to bite and sting and poison the hand 
of undeserved mercy extended by a magnanimous, 
forgiving country ! The adders must be crushed ! 
The work of reconstruction must go on ! The 
bureau for the loyal freedmen must be sustained ! 
The army must still occupy every foot of rebel 
soil ! Those black citizens must be given the elec- 
tive franchise in every rebel State in order to pro- 
tect themselves against a worse slavery than they 
suffered before the war,” and so forth. 

Gentle slumbers! 

“Mr. Bobersing, mer mind ar hanted serous on 
er scurous pint.” 

“What mought dat he, Brother Johnsing?” 

“Hits dis. Brother Robersing. Ef de colored 
poppylation teck possess 0’ dis kentry whut will 


298 


Lorna Carswell. 


come uv de colored peoples? Now I is a colored 
people. Who in de worl is dis colored poppylation 
de polly tickers jaw en whine so much erbout?” 

“Well, lemme resider, Brother Johnsing. Heh ! 
Yep, desso ! Muss be bureau folks an all dese 
yether lan orfiss en poltishers de guvment sont 
from de Norf. Dey pear to me lack dey gwine 
in ginrel swoop ebbersing in dis kentry — all de 
white folks got an all de fool niggers terwunce.” 

“Yes, but dey all ai colored?” 

“Den, Brother J ohnsing, damfino !” 

“Brother Bobersing ! Yer precher o’ de gawspell 
an cuss scandilus lack dat !” 

“De change o’ heart so sudden I fergit. Wese 
all po sinful critters. Lord fergine us !” 

“Looker here, Gus ! Yer ai foolin dis nigger ! 
What fotch de change?” 

“Step dis way, Sam, enner tole yer. I soon skiver 
dat de lone way ter destract any tention an get any 
pie fum all dese bureau an lan orfiss en Saviors an 
Mosesses fum de Norf waz ter show dat yer is 
powful mong all de niggers. De chetch is de power. 
Yer knows our young masser learn us ter read er 
leetle in slavery. Well, soon ez I seed war de loafs 
en fish gwin, I got sudden an merracklous con- 
varted, jine de chetch, en wuz preachin in er jiffy.” 

“Gus, which chetch yer jine?” 

“Bein no sheep, I is er Baibtist.” 

“Does yer bein preacher git dar?” 

“Sho? Works lubly ! Plenty ter eat, nuttin ter 
do.” 

“Den I’se gwi pent on mer sins, jine, and bein 
a yalligator preach ez a shoutin Meffidiss righter- 
way !” 


A Story of the South. 299 

“Shake, Brother Bobersing ! Yer better hurry 
do, kaze deres more nigger preachers sprung up 
all roun dan deres fools ter sport em. Nebber 
seed sich vival o ? ligion ! Ef yer wuck en preach 
fer de publican party and help this big bureau 
man and tothers in their plans, yous all right. Me 
and him done fix how ter injuice all de niggers 
inter secrit league soon ez dey kin vote. He ter 
git de money an me and you git de per cint. He 
say de government want all de niggers jine de 
league to keep frum being put back in slavery. 
Yer know dab’ll fotch em all in ! 

“Each membar will hatter pay two dollar ter 
jine, en fifty cents er mont dues. Den ebry siprit 
lodge will hatter plank down five ter ten dollas 
fer dere chartey. He callate hundred tousan dol- 
lar kin be riz in dis way ter keep all de niggers 
outern slavery ergin, kaze he spread de league inter 
jinin States, too. De bureau man be de presdent 
o’ de hull consarn, and all de money come ter him 
here as de agent o’ de government. 

“How, Guss, you kin be a power to hep preach 
de gospel an de league an hep me an de presdent 
wuck it. You fotch in de Mefdist, I fotch in de 
Babitist, en both on us fotch in all de ress. He 
say die govment will pay us ten tousan dollar 
outern ebry bunded tousan fer our time en labor 
in dis great vineyard o’ de Lord a heppin an savin 
our own colored people frum slavery ergin. He 
tole me ter tell yer all dis jis tween us, an dat you 
an me will be high ossifers in de league. 

“Ebry membar hatter swar he go ter rescue any 
brother in trouble, no matter whut de trouble; an 


300 


Lorna Carswell. 


dat we vote fer no man fer office ceppen he mem- 
bar dis league an a publican.” 

It is a matter of history of carpet-bag rule un- 
der reconstruction that our Big Manager carried 
out successfully his plan of a league, and robbed 
by wholesale the ignorant, confiding, misguided 
freedmen of the South. The mischievous, incen- 
diary, secret teachings of the league made the ne- 
groes violent, impudent and threatening toward 
the Southern whites to such an extent that for 
awhile the latter lived in fear and dread of the 
assassin and the midnight torch. 

The poor deluded negroes were taught that all 
the warnings and kind counsel of their old masters 
were only blinds to lull their fears so they could 
be re-enslaved. 

Tuition under these leagues, and the oath to 
rescue a brother, caused the poor negroes to op- 
pose and defy decrees and verdicts of courts and 
all process of law. No matter how heinous the 
offence of a member as to robbery, theft, murder, 
or worse, he must be rescued and protected. 

Such a reign of lawlessness and terror was thus 
inaugurated by our Big Manager and his co-work- 
ers in the Southern States that the whites to pro- 
tect themselves, their property and families, had to 
organize on the Ku-Klux Klan system. Some 
innocent negroes, no doubt, suffered as poor dog 
Tray did. But every punishment by the out- 
raged white of the misguided colored dupes 
of these white carpet-baggers from the North, 
was promptly reported to Congress and the 
Northern press as another Southern outrage 
upon the loyal black citizens and as evi- 


A Story of the Suith. 

dence of the need of further reconstruction 
measures and the continuance of the Freed- 
man’s Bureau. And whenever one of these 
angel carpet-baggers met a deserved fate, he was 
canonized as a holy martyr. Pecksniff and Uriah 
Heep were outclassed. 

Doubtless there was genuine sympathy in the 
hearts of thousands throughout the North for the 
landless and moneyless freedman, and the Freed- 
man’s Bureau was approved as an engine of charity 
and bem olence, hut such as our Big Manager con- 
verted it into a terrific political power and means 
of spoliation. 


Lorna CarswelL 


3 o<* 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

/HE NEGRO IN THE HOUSE OF HIS FRIENDS ( ?) . 

Poor dear old Marma ! A pitiful wail of com- 
passion and love and sore despair escaped her 
withered lips as she followed the broken Carswell 
family from the burial oi her honey child, her 
idolized Miss Lorny. Her mistress out of her 
own stony grief heard the cry of the old faithful 
slave, and enfolding her in her arms, mistress 
and slave so wept together. 

His dead Buried, his plantation devastated, his 
fortune wrecked, and the cause for which he 
fought lost, Edward Carswell faced the world to 
begin again the struggle of existence. 

One of his first cares had been to refence parts 
of the farm, and as far as able to give employ- 
ment and means of living to as many of his for- 
mer slaves as possible. But only a few could be 
thus provided for, and all he could do as to the 
many others was to kindly advise them where to 
go and what to do to make provision for them- 
selves and families. 

One day in the winter of this same year, while 
in the town, he was sitting on the hotel piazza 
in conversation with the Yankee officers of troops 
stationed there. He was surprised to hear several 


A Story of the South. 30^ 

voices say, “Howdy, Mars Eddard !” On the side- 
walk he saw standing with hats in hand and 
pleased faces a dozen or more negro men with 
their women and children, all looking np at him. 
At a glance he knew them all as his former slaves, 
and, hurrying down to them, shook hands with 
each one, calling him or her by name, and inquired 
sympathetically how all of them were and how 
they were getting along. The negroes showed 
such unfeigned delight at seeing him, that the 
officers, knowing Carswell to have been a slave 
holder, looked at each other in astonishment. 
After inquiring all about “Missus en dey all at 
home,” the negroes passed on. 

“Were those your former slaves, sir?” 

“Yes, and I was very glad to see them.” 

“They certainly seemed glad to meet you !” 

Then turning to his brother officers the speaker 
remarked, “This kind of thing does not agree with 
our teachings. Facts, on the ground, are worth 
a thousand theories and assumptions a thousand 
or more miles away!” 

When, however, in Georgia as in Florida, the 
carpet-hag element with the Freedman’s Bureau 
and secret societies, Loyal leagues and Union 
leagues and Lincoln brotherhoods, had got in 
their teachings on the poor, duped, robbed and 
betrayed negroes, Carswell no longer deemed it 
safe to leave his family in the country, but moved 
them to the town. 

The regular meetings of these lodges in guarded 
secret places, drillings with muskets and rattling 
swords, became ominous and alarming to the 
whites. Hot knowing then that it was the carpet- 


304 


Lorna Carswell. 


bag method of fleecing the ignorant negro of his 
scant earnings, as well as to drill him into hatred 
of the whites and into political clubs, it looked as 
though the freedmen were preparing to massacre 
the whites and forcibly take the country, forty 
acres and a mule and all. 

For some time Carswell and other Southern 
whit a tried to advise and warn the misguided 
freedmen ; but they had been taught in the lodges 
by the plunder seeking carpet-baggers that the 
object of their old masters was to\ lull them into 
security only to re-enslave them. 

Despite all this, there was a natural good dispo- 
sition toward their former masters by many of 
the negroes, and some of them called upon Cars- 
well and other prominent Southern men to ad- 
dress them in a public meeting and give them 
information and advice on their duties as citizens. 
The meeting was largely attended and the speakers’ 
addresses gladly received. 

But the carpet-bag element became alarmed at 
this kind of movement on the part of the blacks, 
and managed by secret league teachings to prevent 
its repetition. Incessantly agitated by these ex- 
ploiting strangers by frequent political and secret 
league meetings and fiery harangues against all 
ex-slave holders, labor was disorganized and 
largely abandoned, contorted ideas of rights in- 
stilled into the freedmen’s minds, and overbearing 
impoliteness, impudence and bullyragging prej- 
udice and hate consumed in the minds of many 
freedmen all their natural love, respect and con- 
fidence in their former masters. Vagrancy, pau- 
perism, crime, misery, idleness, followed, with de- 


3°5 


A Story of the South. 

pendence only on Federal rations, plunder and pil- 
lage. Under the operations of the Freedmen’s 
Bureau the civil law and whites outside the 
bureau were deprived of all jurisdiction over the 
blacks. All chattel property as hogs, cattle, poul- 
try, general farm produce, and even the safety of 
life and honor and homes of the whites, became 
subject to the frequent depredations of lawless 
bands of loafing, armed and pilfering freedmen. 
The class of law abiding negroes who strived to 
labor honestly and make a living were alike with 
the Southern whites the victims and sufferers from 
these nomadic plunderers. 

The situation became so alarming that the 
whites were compelled to organize some system to 
protect themselves, their property, their wives and 
children. And so it happened that every time 
any vagrant negro or carpet-bagger, caught red- 
handed in pillage and crime, or instigating a 
war of races, met at the hands of the whites his 
just deserts, such men as our Big Manager would 
hasten to write up for the Northern press another 
“Southern outrage;” and several columns of the 
Congressional Globe would bristle with denuncia- 
tions of rebel traitors deserving more stringent 
(reconstruction measures, if not hanging, and con- 
gress would excitedlv debate measures for sup- 
pression of the hellish Southern Ku-Klux Klan, 
and protection of the loyal brother in black. 

Unable to hire* or even support servants, Cars- 
well had nevertheless carried to the town with 
his family Marma and Merric and little cripple 
Amy. Mose, Willis, Jim and Hansom, with their 
families, were left on the desolated plantation. 


Lorna Carswell. 


306 

with most of the former house servants, including 
Baymon, Ben and Dennis. 

The disturbed chaotic state of affairs dragged 
its weary length along for several years under the 
carpet-bag so-called government. 

One day Willis and Mose and Hansom, who 
had deposited several hundred dollars each of 
hard earned money in the Freedmen’s Savings 
Bank, came in town to see Carswell. They were 
much disturbed and looked pitiably helpless at 
each other. As this bank was undnKFbderal con- 
trol from Washington, Carswell had thought it as 
a matter of course safe ; and when they had sought 
his advice he had told them to place their savings 
in it, and thus gradually accumulate enough to 
buy homes and land for themselves. 

“Mars Eddard spoke the brawny, honest Wil- 
lis, “is hit er f ac de bank buss an our money loss ?” 

Carswell knew too well the news was true, and 
that these poor black toilers facing him, like thous- 
ands of others throughout the South, had lost the 
toil and sweat of several years 5 labor through this 
gigantic swindle. 

Each saw in the grave and pained expression of 
their former master’s face that the bad news was 
true. 

“Mars Eddard,” said Mose, “yer know I wuz 
alters nomikil fer ter sabe mer yarnins slave days. 
Lackwise also wuz mer ole oman Mary. Her en 
me bin stintin an stintin ebber sence freedom, 
countin on buyin er little farm wid dis savin bank 
money. Hs lib hard en wuck harderer, an many 
er night I hatter watch out little tater bank en 
corn an chickens en pigs, but dem vaggerbone no 


307 


A Story of the South. 

count league en pollytick niggers stole mos all. 
Us all dassent leab de cabin in broad day ter wuck 
in de feel ferninst some triflin rascal slip in en 
stole all de pittance o’ wisions fum us en our 
chilluns. Eben dat ole runaway Jeff is back, an 
strutin roun ez a preacher en president of a 
league. An now de government bank done stole 
all us could sabe en yearn! Whut I gwi tole 
Mary en dem orfling chilluns wen er git back dar ? 
Her mout ez well be a po widderling. I done gin 
up.” 

Poor Mose! How Carswell’s heart yearned in 
sympathy with him; how his own poverty of 
purse goaded him, when he would have freely 
given Mose all his losses, were he able, because he 
had advised him the bank under the control 
of the United States Government was good and 
safe. 

Hansom, our good old dude coachman, reduced 
by freedom to the ranks of a common field hand in 
appearance, but still wearing one scrap left of a 
patched “soolk weskit” given him in years past by 
his Miss Lorny, looked so mournfully outdone by 
this terrible loss of his and Sukey’s savings, that 
Carswell, who remembered the silk vest and its 
fair donor, lost control of himself. With tear- 
dimmed eyes he silently clasped Hansom’s labor 
roughened hands. 

“Us ai blamin you, Mars Eddard !” quickly 
gulped Hansom. “Doan let weuns lossins pester 
you. Yer vised us fer de bess as you knowed hit. 
I woosh ter Gawd, Mars Eddard, dat Sukey en me 
wuz wid you en Missus ergin — her a tendin de 
biggus en beatin dough, an me a druvin de caige !” 


Lorna Carswell. 


308 

As Carswell looked at the three black faces he 
remembered how they had readily given their mis- 
tress all their money following Sherman’s raid and 
before he came home. This money had long since 
been repaid. Telling them now not to worry about 
paying him any rent, and giving them all the 
money he had, he dismissed them with the promise 
to investigate their bank losses, and if possible to 
secure its repayment by the government. Nothing 
was ever recovered. That the carpet-bag bank 
[officials and defaulters got it all, is the most nat- 
ural conclusion. 


A Story of the South. 


309 


CHAPTER XXXIV 

THE SCALAWAG. 

Theodore Selkirk meantime had become a 
United States Senator. Caught in the drift of 
circumstances he passively submitted to the dic- 
tates of a constituent radical party majority. He 
avoided entering upon any of the bitter and fiery 
debates regarding the South and reconstruction, 
negro suffrage and reported Southern outrages. 
Knowing the Big Manager had gone to exploit 
Florida, he smiled in bitter sarcasm when some of 
that worthy’s literature on the South and its ter- 
rible condition would occasionally be read by some 
Senator as coming from the highest and most un- 
questionable source, and made the subject of a 
tirade against still unrepentant rebels; or was 
incorporated in some committee’s report on the 
state of affairs in the Southern States. 

One day out of curiosity he loitered in the 
House and listened to the maiden speech of a 
Southern renegade scalawag citizen carpet-bag 
member. This beautiful little man had co- 
operated with his State as much a rebel as any; 
but when the war closed and the palmy days of cor- 
ruption and plunder and stealing by statute was in 


Lorna Carswell, 


3*0 

full swing in his State, with a legislature filled 
with, for the most part, ignorant and purchasable 
negroes, the loaves and fishes became too tempting. 
So he sold his birthright for a mess of pottage, was 
suddenly and miraculously converted politically, 
and left Benedict Arnold way^back in the shade. 

He had secured his seat in Congress by contest- 
ing the election of a democrat and had been voted 
in by a strictly partisan majority, although the 
democrat had clearly a large majority of votes. 

Knowing his history from the contest, Selkirk 
was amused at the speech of this bright little angel 
neophyte. The comments in parenthesis are 
thoughts of Selkirk. Here it is in part, copied 
from the Record : 

“Mr. Speaker, an honest confession is good for the 
soul when made, not through policy, but from deep 
down in the inmost recesses of the heart and soul. 
That man who from mere policy puts on a show of 
honesty is a bad man and not to be trusted. (0, 
rats ! Give us a rest. Thou art that bad man. ) 
Hence I appear before you to-day with no lip 
service. (Too thin.) I want to help the glorious 
cause of this Congress in the reconstruction of the 
Southern States. (0, you do, do you?) 

“Mr. Speaker, I belong to a class of men having 
peculiar claims upon the sympathy, if not the ad- 
miration of this House. I am a ‘reconstructed 
rebel/ I say this in no canting or boasting spirit. 
I detest a hypocrite, and despise the man who 
makes an ostentatious parade of assumed humil- 
ity, while his heart is full of pride and deceit. 
(0 Pharisee of old, thou art outclassed.) I have 
the honesty to say that I have done wrong, and the 


A Story of the South. 311 

courage to say I am sorry for it. (Good little fel- 
low !) 

“Though for nearly three years a rebel against 
our government, I declare with entire truth and 
sincerity that I have always been at heart a 
Union man. (Of course, no doubt, not the least 
grain ! ) I became a rebel, hut not exactly a fight- 
ing rebel. (Quite a nice distinction!) I hunted 
soft and easy places. (Ah, indeed!) The path 
fate marked out for me to tread during that great 
rebellion did not lead me within range of the 
enemy’s minie rifles. (So! a fatalist, eh? Any 
religion may be better than none.) I was one of 
those favored few whose lot was to remain in the 
rear and enjoy the luxury of smuggled goods. (0 
thou good, honest, Union man !) True, I wore the 
Confederate uniform; and while I admired the 
pluck of the South, I say damn their discretion. 
(I admire your gall!) As soon as the war was 
over I realized that I had been guilty of a great 
wrong in aiding a rebellion. (If rebellion had 
succeeded what would you have realized?) I am 
ready to make all proper apology and reparation 
for the part I took in resisting the government. 
(Indeed!) As the best evidence of my sincerity 
I have joined the great political party which 
fought and vanquished secession. (Doubtless 
your motives were pure as an angel’s tear of pity !) 

“You have conquered, hut beware how you let 
the power you now hold pass from your hands! 
(Ha! you want longer license to plunder?) The 
Samson of the South is the Uu-Klux. Ho man 
who favors the reconstruction acts of Congress 
can live in the South with safety to himself or his 


312 


Lorna Carswell. 


property. I have leairned the terrible intentions 
of the Ku-Klux! (So the K. K. K. have been 
regulating your dark and devious ways!) I have 
been subjected to calumny, insult and ostracism 
merely because I joined the republicans and sup- 
ported the reconstruction acts of Congress. (0, 
go tell your wrongs to the sheriff!) This South- 
ern feeling can only be cured by a fixed and de- 
termined course against the Ku-Klux. (Wish 
they had hanged you. Expect you deserved it.) 
To turn all this Ku-Klux democracy indiscrim- 
inately loose upon us will not only sap our intel- 
lects, but shorten our lives. (Ha ! ha ! ha ! Ain’t 
that rich !) 

“The will of the people as expressed through 
Congress does not go down well in my State. 
(How can they swallow disfranchisement, loss of 
civil government, negro suffrage, and race war 
carpet-baggism at one gulp!) In my State I am 
called a scalawag. (You look like one!) Scala- 
wags are on the increase there since the last presi- 
dential election. (God help the country then!) 
Even the women and children join in the general 
howl of indignation against the Southern man 
who turns scalawag. (Don’t blame ’em.) 

“Mr. Speaker, the awful sights I have witnessed 

in my own State ” Selkirk left. He had 

heard it so often he knew the balance by heart. 

The scalawag was correct about ostracism. 
Whether Northern carpet-bag or Southern scala- 
wag, the white men or women, whatever the pur- 
pose, who ostentatiously placed themselves on a 
perfect social equality at their homes, tables, fire- 
sides, parlors, bed and board, schools, hotels, or 


A Story of the South. 3. 

even saloons* with the negroes, were at once denied 
entrance to the social life of the Southern whites. 
And this was not prejudice or ill will against the 
negro. On the contrary the most cordial and 
kindly feelings and relations existed between the 
ex-slave holders and the freedmen, as in Cars- 
well^ case. Exceptions to the rule were rare. It 
is ‘true, however, that after the carpetbag element 
had vitiated and poisoned the susceptible negroes 
with ideas that the negro as a citizen had all the 
rights and the Southern whites none, the breach 
was widened. And when lawless gangs of blacks 
began to plunder, override and terrorize the coun- 
try, and civil courts had practically no power nor 
jurisdiction under reconstruction acts, then a lo- 
cal police was organized for self protection, gen- 
erally known as our scalawag’s terrible Samson of 
a Ku-Klux. It did “sap some intellects and 
shorten some lives.” 


Lorna Carswell. 


3H 


CHAPTER XXXY. 

FLORIDA, 1876. 

Our two worthies, the Rev. Samuel J ohnson and 
the Rev. Augustus Roberson, are again discussing 
the lurid situation as the white population, and 
many of the blacks, too, are celebrating the re- 
demption of the State from eight years of carpet- 
baggism. 

“Dog-gone! Sam, whutTl us do now? Strikes 
me our occupashun gone. Bleve I’ll quit preachin 
an go back on a fam, now deres no mo usen stayin 
in polticks.” 

“Heh! Sam, you’se a fool nigger. Better now 
be a sho nuff gennywine preacher. Hits nater fo 
niggers ter love an kep up de chutch. We kin 
still lib good an easy on de kine sisters an belubed 
bretherin. I bin loafin eight year. Ef bein a 
sanktermony preacher o’ de gawspel will kep me 
loafin, I’m yer sammyrinktum.” 

“Youse right, brother Robersing, mighty right. 
I lack ter fergit dat I is called by de Lawd fer to 
preach.” 

“Now yer talkin, brother Johnsing. Yer haid 
level ergin. No backslidin wid you ! Sides now 
d’e dimmycracks will be in market fer our votes. 


A Story of the South. 315 

We kin still be a balance o’ power, an vote fer de 
dimmy whutTl pay de mos. But say! Did dat 
Big Manger ever gin you any remission fer 
wuckin all de colored folks inter dem ar leagues ?” 

“Harry dollar. He kep puttin off say in hit wuz 
ten cents on ebber hunded tousen dollar, an dat 
fuss hunded tousen not yet riz.” 

“Done me same way ! Brother Robersing, Fse 
bout eluded dat us niggers bin made fools on by 
all dat angel ban o’ Saviors whut came fum de 
norf an run de polticks o’ dis State lass eight 
year jess to hull orfis an full dere pockits. Der 
dimmies say dey done bankrup de State; enner 
knows dey casion de killin 0’ many o po nigger 
by meckin a wile stark starin mad fool 0’ him. 
Dey git all de nigger’s money froo de leagues en 
seckrit poltick sieties, den usen part dis money 
ter buy nigger votes en white votes too in de 
legislater ter plunder de white property owners 
by statoot. Why, all de white reppies fum de 
norf, what come here ter lib en own property an 
pay taxes, done vote in dis lection fer de dimmies. 

“Den eben what niggers dat lissen ter dere ole 
masser’s dewice, an let de leagues an polticks lone, 
an wuck quiet an decent, done loss all dere pitiful 
savins froo de buss o’ dat govment savin bank. 

“Tell yer what, brother Robersing, polticks an 
votin done nuffin fer mos all niggers in dis State 
ceppen meckin victums an catspaws an big blab- 
mouf fools an loafs outtem em, sides gittin fum 
em all dey yamins.” 

“Brother Johnsing, you’se er talkin kirreck. 
Eben wen a colored pusson kick at de party trases, 
en say e gwi vote dimmy ticket, all de fool niggers 


Lorna Carswell. 


3 j 6 

an white reppies oystershell (ostracise) an parse- 
cnte im ter def l” 

“Sam, lemme tole yer ! Ha, haw ! ya he-yah ! 
Does yer member our smellin mitty wen me an you 
wuz bloomin membars o ? de legislater? Dat four 
million raleroad bond swindle bill war up. Lack 
ignunt innocence we fuss lay low a prodgerkin dat 
our salary ez members wuz mighty good pay. But 
de white carpet-bag membars en some de big gun 
niggers pear lack hed money ter burn. It leaked 
out dat dese flush fellows hed bin tradin dere 
votes. Den we wucked up a siprit kowkiss fer 
colored membars wid parmanint churman, an 
pinted a mitty to smell up all perpose bills whut 
wuz money schemes. 

“Sam, me an you wuz blame blind fools fer not 
gittin pinted on dat smellin mitty, ar fur bet- 
terer, be churman o’ de kowkiss. 

“De mitty ported whar votes wuz wanted an how 
many, an whut would be paid for em. De chur- 
man wuz ter kleck de money an vide equal wid all 
on us. De churman vised us time an ergin how to 
vote, an us all voted as e say, but no money come. 

“Bombye dat slick nigger churman flush wid 
plenty o’ money! Swar ter Gawd, ef e wassent 
playin carpet-bagger on he own color an kowkiss ! 
We call a meetin an cuse ? im o’ bezlin de cash. 
He swar powfu an flat dat e diden git any money. 
But de man whut paid im, seein us diden vote for 
he schemes kaze no boodle retch our pockets, 
squealed on de lyin churman an prove dat e had 
gin im hunded o’ dollars ez a present for ‘de 
boys/ Den dat slick churman rar up an say dat 
all de money e got wuz gin im ez individual pres- 


3i7 


A Story of the South. 

tent ! Dis bruck up de kowkiss plan. Atter dat 
each one on us did e own smellin and got e own 
pay for e own vidual vote.” 

“Yer member, Sam, de shoutin time niggers bad 
in dat constootal vention way back in ’68 ? Wen 
dey made a Tallahassee colored preacher pusson 
tempry presdent an a Baltimore nigger tempry 
sectry? All de niggers newly franched wuz a 
shoutin ‘bottom rail on top’ ‘de year o’ jubilee am 
come !’ 

“Den de pandemony row commence tween de 
Loyal League and de Linkum Brotherhood to 
mastry de vention. De wool gin ter pull and de 
fur ter fly ! De League won fuss innins, an a 
white man fum Illinois, whut lived two days in 
county e sent fum as diligate, wuz lected boss o’ 
de vention. 

“Fuss ting dey done wus ter resute an isher 
fifty thousan dollars State scrip by de boss an he 
finance agent, who lackwize wuz stranger in Flur- 
ridy. Me an you wucked de league racket an got 
pin ted messengers at ten dollar a day each. TTs 
wuz on de pay roll an de pay lowed in scrip, but 
I nebber eben smell a taste o’ de pay ner scrip. 
Somebody got it. 

“But Lord ! To kotch sight o’ som o’ dem in- 
gunt niggers sotten dar ez membars, wid both foots 
cross toppen deskis an smokin segars while de 
vention in session! All de colored popplashun 
in de kentry quit wuck fer weeks an lounge round 
de captol. Wen one o’ dem black statesmen saw 
lots o’ visters lookin on, he strut up lack a tucky 
gobble sawin de groun wid e wings, and say mos 
pompous : 


Lorns. Carswell. 


3i8 

“ ‘Mister Prisiden, I yize ter a pint off orter 
an deman dat de pages an messgers fotch some 
jinals on my des. I has not hed a jinal ter read in 
free or fo days! an I sist on meT rites under de 
constootion no de Newnited States an ther State 
o’ Flurridy and ther reckonstriction nacks 0’ de 
publikin congruss !’ 

“Den all we niggers gaze in stounment at de 
mighty power an wisdom o’ dat big corn feel 
darkey, e teck jinal I fotch im, hist e feets toppen 
des ergin, skrunge seegar in cornder mouf* flung 
back e wooly haid, an ten lack e read, wid jinal 
upside down! I loss patience an holler ter de 
presdent dat de biggety cai read nohow. Den 
short ez pie de presdent order me ter dry up an 
wait on de genlums o’ de vention. Great Scot! 
dem wuz times ! Some de colored membars do 
war rale genlums o’ sense an eddication, but de 
carpet-bags soon spile mos all on em.” 

The two mused a while in silence. 

“Brother Johnsing, I rize ter remark dat deres 
many a publican statesman out uv a job in Flur- 
ridy dis day, sho ! Less go an hurra wid de win- 
nin side. Dars where our bread buttered now. 
But no — stop — hole on a minit. Tell me what- 
ever come o’ dat Big Manager whut weeded sech a 
wide row in govment ration days ?” 

“Wy, brother Robersing, heaint yer hearn ! Ha ! 
ha ! ha ! Guess e do think all niggers fools by 
dis time! Wen e got a big pile fum de sickrit 
cieties an bureau, an savin bank fail, an yether 
schemes, he went to nother part de State an 
bought a tremenjus big plantation. Brother 
Mitch Hankersing tole me all bout, kaze he went 


A Story of the South. 319 

rite dar widdem. Brother Mitch owe im nine 
bunded dollar now! 

“He fuss try git de place ez handon fiscate hut 
owners atterward pop up an inter jeck. Upshot de 
hiz wuz e hatter buy at hits rale valley, or loss 
whut e done put dar. De ole mars dat own it 
newster hab five, six, seben hundred niggers ; an e 
put up sich a pooty mouf bout de cotton an cane 
en truck an stuff dat de manger injuiced ter pay 
ten dollar acre. Dere wuz eight tousen acre, 
woods en all. 

“Kose hit tuck a pile den fer to fence, clar, 
build, pair up, en buy mules, stock an all splies. 
Den Mr. Manger gin a big harbcue an got bout 
thousan colored freedoms 0’ de pendin on govment 
ration bureau stripe. Bureau, do, done, flip outter 
resistance. 

“Den e meek big speech an say, ‘Kum ter me all 
ye panters atter freedom an equality an er chance 
ter progress an I will ge yer ress ! Yer hez bin kep 
down by brutal slavery wid no chance, but now 
ther sun o’ freedom is riz an you will rise, an 
prove ter your anxious rerdeemers dat all de brud- 
der in black wants is er chance. What do your 
skin is black, you is jess ez good ez me, an a site 
betterer dan dese Southern tassmasters which hez 
kep de Lord’s people in bondage lo dese many years. 
I druther truss you dan dem ; an you an your wives 
an chillun is jess ez wilkim at my bouse en parlor 
en table ez any white man. All men is created 
equil. My wife an darters will ceve you an your 
wives an sons an darters on social quality. I 
shell build an furnish well a neat little bouse fer 
bber tenner on my plantation, an kep a large store 


320 


Lorna Carswell. 


o’ supplies. My frens an feller citrons, I perpose 
ter furnish lan, ouse, furniture, wisions, merchan- 
dise, mules, plows, gear, ebbersing, an you ter git 
half de crap. Onny sing charge on your half will 
be yer store count. We shell rutionize farming in 
de souf, an prove dat Affican free labor is thousan 
time betterer dan slave. 5 

“Lord ! how dem niggers did shout ! Here de 
promiss lan dey sithin fer. Things went on swim- 
min in de yarly sprung. Dem slick niggers soon 
larn Mr. Manager knowed nuttin bout farmin in 
de souf, an dey an dere wives frequent sot up in e 
parlor an eat at e table scussin whut tremenjus 
crap o’ cotton gwi be meek. Mr. Manger face 
glow an rub e hans liteful ez e callate big pile o’ 
cash fum cotton, sides normous profits on sto 
goods. 

“Den de knowin ones mong de freedoms git 
sickritly tergidder an laff en jolly kaze de Lord 
sen em sich er sucker ! By time crap planted eb- 
ber colored famly owed mo at Mr. Manger’s sto 
dan all de crap dey could meek would mount to. 
Price war no objeck slong as dey kep gittin de 
goods. 

“Bout time de lazy half-ten grassy measely crap 
laid by, dem niggers gen ter leff de place. All 
de moverble house furniture move wid dem. One 
de colored wimmins suited Mr. Manger’s wife an 
darters in dey own parlor ! Her git mad at sum- 
pen an rare back an tell em her knowed dey wuz 
nuffin but low down white trash whey dey come 
fum kaze dey put deyselves on social equality wid 
niggers ! 

“Dey leab den soonerer an frequenter, twill no- 


321 


A Story of the South. 

body leff ter gedder whut little crap made. Ha! 
ha ! How Mr. Manger den bile ober an cuss nig- 
gers ! He eben say e woosh ebber dam one on em 
back in slavery! Hit buss im all ter smash, an 
e leff de State a wagglebone.” 

“Tween you an me, brother Johnsing, knowin 
whut all us knows, hits mighty lucky de dims 
diden jess naterly rise up in rage an kill de hull 
passul on em an us too ! Ef twuz ez bad in Mis- 
sippy an yether States as here, I doan sprize dat de 
white folks jess teckin hole wid red shirts an shot 
guns an sweepin de orgy stables.” 

Just then Governor-elect Drew was seen passing 
into th$ capitol. Gus and Sam could not resist 
cheering success, and waving their hats, hollered 
“hooray fer Guvner Drew !” 


322 


Lorna Carswell. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

CARSWELL AND SELKIRK MEET AGAIN. 

Selkirk was one day in the Senate listening 
carelessly to one of the usual tirades against con- 
firming a Southern man for some Federal office.. 
Hearing the State of Georgia mentioned he gave 
the matter more attention. When he heard the 
name of Edward Carswell as the party in question 
his pulse quickened. He became a live wire 
instanter. 

The military commander in Carswell’s district 
as well as some leading republicans there, had so- 
licited Carswell to accept the office for the good of 
his own people, black and white, and sent in the 
application with their endorsement. 

A carpet-bag leader wanted the position for a 
negro, and sent in his application endorsed by his 
element. Carswell’s history as a fire-eating rebel, 
ex-slavocrat, anti-reconstruction, Ku-Klux, colo- 
nel of rebel forces, giving his substance to the 
cause of traitors, and still being unrepentant, was 
given in lurid detail in opposition to his confirma- 
tion. 

Selkirk bottled his wrath at the character of the 
opposition, and systematically went to work pull- 
ing all the private and official wires possible to se- 


323 


A Story of the South. 

cure Carswell’s appointment. He even appealed 
to some leaders as a personal favor, telling them 
his knowledge of the character of Carswell, but the 
pressure of the opposition was too great. Exas- 
perated beyond measure, he lost control of his 
long pent indignation, and threw a bombshell of 
astonishment into the ranks of his own party by 
uttering in cold steel bitter sarcasm the following 
memorable speech: 

“It is only a Jacobin revolutionary convention 
in France, or a radical reconstruction Congress in 
America, that would force mankind to the chang- 
ing whimsies of its legislative experiments, dis- 
turbing the peace and destroying the prosperity of 
society under pretense of accomplishing equal and 
exact justice to all men. 

“Having neither practical knowledge nor actual 
personal experience by contact, you inexorably ap- 
ply assumed theories with sublime contempt for 
the real condition, character, habits, prejudices or 
wants of a people, whether white or black, or both. 
Like Kobespierre, your cry is, ‘Perish the South 
rather than sacrifice one iota of our theories or 
political sway.’ 

“To the really honest man among you, whose 
actions and votes are dictated by a conscientious 
sense of what is just and right, regardless of his 
own self aggrandizement, I have no condemna- 
tion except to regret his lack of statesmanship and 
pity the victims of his legislation. Lord North 
and his Tory majority in 1776 in doing stupid and 
impossible things has many imitators on this floor 
to-day. 

“Of course your bureau paternalism and re- 


3 2 4 


Lorna Carswell. 


construction measures have nothing to do with in- 
fluencing four million freedmen to vote your party 
ticket ! 

“What does the African slave know about the 
ballot, the sacred symbol of individual liberty 
and representative government, except as he may 
be taught or bribed by your white questionable ex- 
ploiters and office and plunder seekers with whom 
you have honeycombed the Southern States? Do 
you think that by these measures you can check 
the intelligent political power of the free States 
and Africanize the South under dominion of cer- 
tain of your political religious fanatics? 

“The dominion of this continent belongs to the 
white man who formed the nation and developed 
the civilization extending across it. You might as 
well try to stop the planet in its course as to curb 
the white man’s dominion in America. It is his 
destiny, it is the law of God. Yet you say that 
claiming this as a white man’s government is blas- 
phemy ! You curb the Indian, the Asiatic, and 
even the intelligent European as to suffrage; but 
the ignorant, pliant slave is at once clothed with 
all the power of the ballot ! For what purpose you 
well know. 

“You attempt to sweep away all barriers of 
pride, aristocracy, caste — no distinction ! What of 
caste in England and other nations ? In a speech 
in this hall one of you recently announced that he 
would as soon think of trusting a madman with 
fire in a powder magazine as to entrust the des- 
tiny of a free government under control of igno- 
rance, and then went on serenely advocating giv- 
ing negroes the ballot and control of ten States of 


A Story of the South. 325 

this Republic ! He knew nothing but black pa- 
triots and white traitors. 

“Do gentlemen seriously believe that African- 
ized State governments, flanked by the military, 
forced by outside pressure, will bring into close 
relations heterogeneous elements — fuse into one 
harmonious whole races which have from the be- 
ginning of time refused to intermingle upon terms 
of equality? 

“Our institutions were not devised for Africans, 
Asiatics, Europeans or Indians. These had no 
voice in the compact. For wise purposes God has 
created a diversity of races and nations and men 
must conform their political theories to this law 
or else expect discord and trouble. The wretched 
course of tinkering the Constitution to abolish 
slavery was a narrow view to take of national 
obligations. 

“The negro is now a melancholy prey to party 
contests, to cupidity, prejudice, and convenience of 
the whites. Giving him a vote is like giving 
money and whiskey to the Indian. You insist 
upon his political and even social equality in army 
and navy, in legislative halls, in office, and in civil 
life. His eligibility is not questioned by your the- 
oretic fanatics. Every one who dares question 
such eligibility is denounced by you as a traitor. 

“Do you really need the negro in these untried 
situations, to complete the subjugation of the 
South ? Have all your armed hosts, immense 
treasure, all the republican qualities of the white 
race, proved a failure? The safety of this intelli- 
gent nation does not require putting ten States 
under negro rule. But perpetuation of your 


326 


Lorna Carswell. 


power requires it. Your motto is, ‘Lay on, Mac- 
duff, and damned be he who first says enough V 

“It is hopeless for the South ever to win or ex- 
pect sympathy, justice or right at your hands. 
You plunder her in her poverty, oppress her in her 
weakness, and mock at her calamity. The strug- 
gle of her heroes for guaranteed rights and prop- 
erty counts for naught with you. You force taxa- 
tion without representation upon her, and coerce 
payment of Federal pensions. You need not look 
at me in such astonishment ! I know that I have 
affiliated with you, and posed before the world as 
one of you ; but your action in the case here to-day 
has surpassed my further endurance or allegiance. 

“Blinded by partisan rage, you who have never 
kept a pledge or obeyed the law, look upon the 
South as a land to be vandalized and its white peo- 
ple despoiled and persecuted for your jealous po- 
litical greed. 

“Straining at gnats and swallowing camels, you 
bring abomination and desolation throughout a 
great part of our common country. You prosti- 
tute the teachings of God and of Christ to your 
inordinate love of arrogant power. 

“Nothing is loyal except as measured by your 
political yardstick. Of course you have been loyal 
to the Constitution before the war, and since, too, 
as exhibited by your tolerably small specimens of 
legislation ! The liberty, fraternity and equality 
of man have before now been proclaimed by the 
bastile and guillotine. Nations have been dismem- 
bered before now by the pride of power and lust 
of plunder. 

“It is in vain to allege atheism of the Consti- 


327 


A Story of the South. 

tution, to ignore the divinity of Jesus of Nazareth 
who taught peace on earth and good will to men. 
Your serpent of radicalism has entered the saere'd 
portals of liberty and converted an Eden of na- 
tional happiness into an earthly hell of discord. 
You have ever held the South to all obligations 
of the Constitution according to interpretations 
of your fanatic school, and at same time denied 
her all guarantees of personal liberty found in the 
same instrument. 

“You abuse and snub General Hancock because 
he dares to say that military power under this 
government in time of peace is subordinate to 
civil laws. Your Praise God Barebones rob a 
president of his powers, and bring about the farce 
of impeachment because his messages publish to 
the world your faults and his vetoes curb your 
mad license. Witness your tenure of office bill, 
and your wild reconstruction measures that 
threaten to light the flames of civil war of races. 

“You attempt to indict a whole people. Sena- 
tors grave in years seriously undertake measures 
to keep disfranchised practically all Southern 
whites and confiscate their lands and personal 
property and use the same or proceeds to support 
thoughtless freedmen in idleness and crime. Un- 
der your theories you would' license every crime 
under the sun in the sacred name of justice ! 

“You deny and overthrow every department of 
the government except congress and usurp un- 
warranted power for that. Five of the supreme 
court judges were appointed by Abraham Lincoln 
and are of your party. But they happen to be 
honest men, and rule against your unconstitu- 


Lorna Carswell. 


328 

tional acts. You increase the number and try to 
partisanize the court. Then you legislate that the 
supreme court shall not touch, investigate or de- 
cide anything against your measures ! 

“You close your doors against legally elected 
members of this body, if the member elect happens 
to be honest enough to 'differ with you politically. 

“Aye ! taunt and gibe at me as a turn-coat ! 
Wise men sometimes change their opinions, but 
fools never. Would that a majority negro popu- 
lation would swarm into some of your free States, 
run all local legislation and offices to suit their 
crude ideas led by a horde of white vandals ! Then 
how would you like to swallow your own medicine ? 

“Speaking of turn-coats, here is what your Sena- 
tor Trumbull, from Illinois, said in Chicago, in 
1857 : ‘I want to have nothing to do with the free 
negro or the slave negro. We, the republican par- 
ty, are the white man’s party/ Again in 1859 in 
these halls he declared, ‘when we say that all men 
are created equal we do not mean that every man 
in organized society has the same rights. We do 
not tolerate that in Illinois. The free negro popu- 
lation of this country is a great evil now. There 
is a distinction between the white and black races 
made by Omnipotence himself. I do not believe 
these two races can live happily and pleasantly 
together and enjoy equal rights without one domi- 
neering over the other/ Yet this man and all like 
him of your party, now insist upon the entire 
political, civil and social equality of the two races 
in the Southern States ! 

“Even your Ben Wade, the man you now move 
heaven and earth for in your travesty impeachment 


A Story of the South. 329 

role to install as your President in place of John- 
son, said here in the Senate in the thirty-fourth 
Congress in debate, ‘1 am not one of those who 
wonld ask them (the Sonth) to continue in such a 
union. It would he doing violence to the plat- 
form of the party to which I belong. We have 
adopted the old Declaration of Independence as 
the basis of our political movements, which de- 
clares that any people when their government 
ceases to protect their rights, when it is so sub- 
verted from the true purpose of government as to 
oppress them, have a right to recur to fundamental 
principles, and, if need be, to destroy the govern- 
ment under which they live, and to erect on its 
ruins another more conducive to their welfare. I 
hold that they have this right/ 

“Here, sir, is the doctrine of our revolutionary 
sires, of Davis, and of Calhoun, and of Webster, 
and of Eohert Toombs, proclaimed by the senator 
for whom you would depose Andrew Johnson ! 

“It is needless for the South to attempt to sat- 
isfy the exactions of your fanatical theorists. The 
protection of their homes, of their wives and chil- 
dren, is dearer to them than meek submission to 
your Africanizing reconstruction foibles. In 
good time your petty madness now will result in 
the complete overthrow of your party in every 
Southern State. 

“You legally murder the keeper of the Southern 
prison who died at your hands declaring he had 
done all in his power to alleviate the sufferings 
of prisoners of war; whereas there were 60,000 
more federal prisoners in the South than confed- 


330 


Lorna Carswell. 


erate prisoners in the North, yet 4,000 more con- 
federates than federals die in prison. 

“Even your own attorney-general refuses to 
plea'd before the supreme court in defense of your 
reconstruction laws, because he announces all said 
laws null and void and outside the constitution. 

“Republican forms of government in the South ! 
What caricature on logic when you who are foreign 
to them, aliens so far as their local policies are 
concerned, dictate their fundamental laws ! 

“I prefer political death at your hands rather 
than longer submit to your party mandates.” 

Flushed and excited, Selkirk ceased, and walked 
away, burning his ships behind him. 

Some timid reader may exclaim, “Why recall 
these dead issues ? What good can it do now, over a 
third of a century afterwards?” Yet Mr. Blaine 
in his “Twenty Years of Congress,” published in 
1884, speaking of the carpet-bag rule in the South 
says, “Their governments were, however, demoral- 
ized by the violent and murderous course of the 
class organized to resist them.” The writer feels 
entirely satisfied that if Mr. Blaine, as well as 
many other Northern writers on these themes, had 
lived in the South with family and property to 
protect during this carpet-bag period, he and they 
would not only never publish to the world many 
such misleading statements, but would have 
joined the Southern inhabitants in their local police 
or vigilance committees, alias Ku-Klux. We re- 
fer the reader again to actions of the people of 
Indiana regarding lawless negro element in Jan- 
uary, 1901, in the tenth chapter of this work. 


A Story of the South. 331 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

RURAL SHADES. 

Selkirk did not know that Carswell was in 
Washington and had heard his entire speech from 
the gallery. Learning the yonng orator’s name, 
and knowing too that the speech had been precipi- 
tated by the rejection of his nomination, Carswell 
hastened down and met Selkirk face to face in 
the cloak room. 

When Selkirk realized who it was that held his 
hand in such warm friendly grasp, a thousand 
emotions and memories overwhelmed him. Tears 
rushed involuntarily to his eyes, and he wept in 
the arms of his older friend of a day long past. 

“My dear sir,” he said, “come with me, I long 
to get out of this! Won’t you let me go back 
home with you? And can we not go at once? I 
want to be with you again down in your Georgia 
home !” 

His soul was full, his voice vibrating with love 
for his friend met again after so many tragic- 
years. Carswell’s heart caught his own spirit and 
understood that he earnestly meant just what he 
said. He felt conscious of undefined love as of 
linked mutual sorrow, for the gifted young man. 
Warmly, friendly, gladly he told him yes — that 


332 Lorna Carswell. 

they would start South together on the morrow, if 
he wished. 

On the joruney Selkirk told him of his experi- 
ence at Rural Shades while with the invading 
army — told him all — even his love for dear lost 
Lorna. The two men became at once dear each to 
other. Their mutual affection was marvellously 
touching and tender. The visitor soon became 
endeared to all the members of the Carswell 
family. 

Do you remember the branch with steep grove- 
shaded hill slopes where we built a dam for a 
swimming pool back in 1859 ? And the many 
colored rocks and glittering particles of sand in 
the bed of the stream? 

Selkirk’s western life and practice had given 
him knowledge of ores and mining. One day he 
returned to the town house after having spent a 
week at Rural Shades, provided for and waited 
upon by the ever faithful Willis and his sump- 
tous” Loo and their covey of pickaninnies. Willis 
lived in the <f biggus” for its care and protection. 

Selkirk astonished Carswell by telling him there 
was gold in paying quantity for mining on the 
old plantation, and offered a large sum for one- 
half interest in the place. The venture proved a 
success, and in due time prosperity again bloomed 
and blossomed there. 

Our now mature and beautiful Lula Woolridge 
was still a loved friend and often a visitor of the 
Carswell family. After some three years of peace- 
ful life on that dear old Southern plantation home 
— his time alternating between the town house and 
Rural Shades, Selkirk realized that their mutual 


333 


A Story of the South. 

grief for sweetest Lorna and dear lost George, as 
well as the lovely face of our darling Lula, had 
awakened blissful dreams of hope and life and 
love. He wooed and won her heart and confi- 
dence, and carried his bride to Rural Shades. 

And if you happen there some day you may find 
our own beloved Nina a most welcome visitor and 
dear friend. 

Many of the former slaves returned to the same 
field of labor and Selkirk’s household. They were 
as happy when their Miss Nina came as in days of 
yore. 

Dear old Marma, at her own request, as she died 
in Mrs. Carswell’s arms, was buried at the foot of 
her Miss Lorny’s grave. She wanted to be near 
her honey chile and beloved young mistress even 
in the silence of voiceless death. 


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